


Catch the Wind

by sarasaurusrex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Butterfly Effect, Castiel Does What Castiel Wants (Supernatural), Changing the past, Choices, Don't Wake Dad, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flashbacks, Guilt, Healing Sex, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Making Out, Mostly Wincest, Multi, OC Villains, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Travel, Wincestiel at the end, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, teencest, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-28 03:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21130211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarasaurusrex/pseuds/sarasaurusrex
Summary: When a rogue angel Castiel once spared begins murdering angels on the West Coast, Sam and Dean help Castiel hunt the angel down once and for all.  Along the way they find themselves in a place they stayed in as teenagers. It brings back memories of Sam’s 16th birthday, when he was being hunted by a delusional friend of John's who was determined to stop the next King of Hell. Unbeknownst to Sam, Dean, or Castiel, the past and present are inexplicably intertwined, and sparing the angel in the past has unfathomable consequences for Sam and Dean's future. Fate, chance, and redemption must all be confronted for the trio to move on.Written for the Wincest Big Bang ontumblr, with Art byBluefire986!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to finally release this story! I've been working on it all year for Wincest Big Bang, and I think it's my favorite one! 
> 
> All the art you see is done by the amazing [Bluefire986](https://bluefire986.tumblr.com/)! You can see it all [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161876).  
The story was beta-ed by the wonderful [IndridGrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndridGrey/pseuds/IndridGrey) and [voodoogypsyeyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoogypsyeyes/pseuds/voodoogypsyeyes)!

[ ](https://imgur.com/cWizyNw)

Sam, Dean, and Castiel had been in the car for what felt like days. They left the bunker before dawn and the sun was now high above them, gleaming over the roof of the Impala. Sam was dozing in the passenger’s seat, his hair ruffling in the breeze, and Castiel was in the back, listening to Dean’s cassette on its fourth loop.

“If we go any further West we’ll be solving a case in Atlantis,” Dean murmured.

Castiel glanced at him. “Atlantis sank, Dean.”

“Yeah, I… forget it.”

Truth be told, the fresh sea breeze coming through Sam’s window was nice. It had been a long time since they'd seen the ocean. But as they passed a sign for a nearby town Dean’s brow furrowed.

“Where’d you say this hunt was?” Dean muttered.

“Isaacton.”

Dean blinked. He _knew_ that name sounded familiar. As they passed the sign for the turn off, he nudged Sam awake. Sam gave him a sleepy look, and Dean gestured out the window.

“Look where we are,” Dean whispered.

For a moment, all Sam saw was a huge expanse of grassy, coastal plains. He took a deep breath, yawned, then saw the sign for the turn off.

“Isaacton?” His head turned suddenly, still staring at the sign as it flew by. “Seriously?”

Dean was grinning.

Castiel looked between them curiously. “You’ve been here before?”

“Yeah. Once,” Dean replied simply.

Sam had an odd expression on his face. Dean looked strange as well.

“Are you sure you don’t mind helping me with this?” Castiel asked for the hundredth time. “You could just drop me off.”

“No, Cas. It’s fine.” Sam shot him a smile.

It seemed genuine enough, so Castiel dropped it. “Alright. Well, the place I booked is off the road here...”

“You booked a place?” Dean asked.

“Yes, I used MapAdventure—”

“Quest,” Sam and Dean said at the same time.

“—but there weren’t any motels nearby. So the Adviser of Trips” —Sam and Dean glanced at each other.— “...took me here. I just hope it’s alright.”

Sure enough, Dean saw a sandy road ahead just before the turnoff, overgrown and nearly impossible to see from the main road. He slowed down, and soon the Impala was bumping and jostling them off the pavement and down a hidden path to the coast.

Castiel hadn’t expected the path to be so rough. He gave Dean an apprehensive look—the Impala would surely be filthy after this—but to his surprise Dean didn’t seem to notice. He and Sam were looking ahead as an old, single story home came into view.

\---

The Impala came to a halt at an old beach house off the main road. Another half mile down the coast, the ocean sparkled in the sunlight.

A car door opened and John Winchester got out, squinting in the light. Behind him, his two sons got out and looked up at the house.

The old, single story home overlooked miles of coastal plains and had a breathtaking view of the ocean. It had seen better days, but John seemed proud of his find.

From a distance, it might have looked like a promising family scene, but neither of the younger Winchesters looked eager.

“C’mon boys, we’ll only be here for a few days.”

“You mean _I’ll_ be here for a few days,” Sam mumbled.

Dean shot him a look, but their dad hadn’t heard.

John hadn’t brought them there to vacation. He’d brought them there to hunt.

\---

“I can’t believe it, Cas,” Dean said, staring up at the house in disbelief.

The exterior was bleached white and damaged from years of storms and wind; only the back of the house showed its original, beachy blue color. There was an ancient motorbike lying in the brush nearby, along with some window shutters and miscellaneous debris. Dean’s smile warmed at it and he nudged Sam. Sam saw it and grinned.

“Is it really that bad?” Cas approached the house.

Dean patted his back. “Nah. It’s perfect. C’mon.”

Sam, Dean, and Castiel stepped into the unlocked house and looked around, their ears ringing in the silence. Despite years of being uninhabited, the place seemed somewhat kept up by its owner and infrequent guests.

There was an open living room and kitchen, three bedrooms, and a bathroom in the back. It was dusty and dark, but the electricity and plumbing were functional, and the fridge even had some unopened beer in it.

“Awesome!” Dean took one as Sam sorted their things at the round kitchen table.

Dean opened it and it fizzed all over the tile floor.

“Nice.” Sam scoffed.

Dean sipped it loudly.

“Alright, Cas." He joined them at the table, beer foam clinging to his upper lip. "What do we need to know about this case of yours?”

Castiel took a breath and explained.

There had been a series of angel deaths in the outskirts of Isaacton, and Castiel suspected it was the work of an angel he knew years ago. It had once been Castiel’s job to kill him, but he had been sympathetic to the angel’s suffering and had let him go. If the angel was killing again it was Castiel’s fault, and he’d have to complete his mission at last.

As he finished explaining, he looked to Sam and Dean. They were clearly on board, but they seemed more distracted than usual. Castiel chalked it up to the long drive. Still, he couldn't help but worry. The names of the murdered angels played in his head like Dean’s cassette, looping endlessly and filling him with regret.

"Alright. Then we kill the angel," Dean said.

So after a quick lunch, Sam, Dean, and Castiel geared up and left to hunt down the angel.

Before Sam closed the door, he paused to look over the house once more. With a distant expression on his face, he shut the door and joined Dean and Cas.

\---

“Did you get something to eat?” John asked.

“Yes,” a teenaged Sam said with a sigh.

“And did you finish your homework?”

“What’s the point?” he said into the phone, “We’re not staying at that school and I already got the highest SAT score in the state. I should be out there with you and Dean.” He was leaning against the kitchen counter, pulling on the phone cord while he talked to his dad.

“Do you not understand how serious this is, Sam?” John’s voice rose dangerously. “Someone’s out here, hunting _you_.”

“I know, but…”

“They think you’re an heir to the throne of _Hell_. A prod-”

“I’m almost sixteen! I can handle—”

“I gave you an order, Sam! Stay in the cabin. Stay safe. Your brother and I will handle this.”

Sam took a steadying breath, suppressing the familiar feeling of being punished for something he hadn’t done. His dad didn’t care about his SAT score. He didn’t even remember it was his birthday tomorrow.

“Fine,” he said bitterly.

“Good. Now listen closely...”

Sam rolled his eyes and settled in to hear the same old instructions: Keep the house on lockdown, don’t leave for any reason, double check your guns, blah blah blah.

It wasn’t fair. Sam may have been the youngest, but he was taller than Dean now. Hell, he was almost as tall as his dad. Who cared if someone was after him? Everything they hunted was ‘after’ them.

“You got all that?” John interrupted Sam’s thoughts.

“Yup.”

“Good. Now, Dean and I...” John went silent.

Sam sighed. “Yeah?” but John didn’t speak again. Sam waited for a second then said, “Dad?” Sam held the phone closer to his ear. “Dad!”

From the other end of the line came the sounds of bangs, yells, and, finally, John Winchester roaring in anguish, “_Dean_!”

Another bang, then static.

The plastic receiver was digging into the side of Sam’s face, the dial tone echoing like a flatline through his brain.

“D...Dad? Dean?”

Heart hammering against his ribs, Sam hung up the phone with a slam and looked wildly around the room. The house suddenly felt like a cage. The main road was half a mile up the coast, but who knew if Sam would be able to hitch a ride from there? And where would he even go? All he knew was that he had to get out of there. He had to save them.

He ran to their dad’s room and slid under his bed for his duffel bag. He dragged it out and starting throwing its contents onto the floor. There was enough stuff there to stop an apocalypse, he thought.

Sam wiped his eyes furiously as he worked, until a thought paralyzed him.

How would he find his dad and brother? They’d been gone for days. Even if he could find a car to steal, there was no way he could get to them in time. And Dean. What if he was already...

“No,” Sam muttered wiping his face with his sleeve, “No, no...”

He began searching through his dad’s bag again, desperate to find a holy grail, something that could take him to his family and save Dean. But with every hatchet and cross, Sam was stabbed with the realization that he had no weapon for this, and everything in his dad’s room, everything his dad had left him, was suffocatingly useless. Sam sank down in the middle of his mess, trembling with the weight of it all.

Outside, the waves crashed against the shoreline, indifferent to his grief. Sam sat there with arms around his knees and his head bowed for what felt like hours. When he looked back up through glassy eyes, darkness had begun creeping into the house.

Sam’s debilitating fear finally reached his core and he became numb. In the dead silence of his mind, a plan formed in a head like it had been there all along; a stupid, desperate plan. He’d grab some gear and walk until he found a car. Then he’d drive until he found his family. And if he never found his family, then he’d never stop driving. He didn’t need school, he didn’t need the SATs or a birthday cake. He needed his family. He needed Dean.

Eyes bleary and stomach growling, Sam got up and began packing. But before he could leave the house, headlights flashed across the wall. Sam ducked instinctively and pulled his bag to him.

Someone was pulling into their driveway.


	2. Chapter 2

The Impala’s headlights flashed across the house late that night. Sam, Dean, and Castiel got out, looking exhausted and disheveled. They dropped their things in the living room and Castiel sank onto the couch without saying a word. Sam and Dean exchanged weary looks.

They’d found the angel’s latest target, but they were too late. He had killed again—an angel friend of Castiel's.

Castiel was now certain they were hunting the angel he had once spared: Enoch. Enoch had somehow become more powerful than regular angels like Castiel. The boys had barely escaped with their lives. It seemed that every kill made him stronger, and now Castiel had another name haunting his thoughts.

Sam was clutching a bleeding shoulder, so Dean took him into the bathroom and gave Castiel a moment of privacy.

Sam sat on the edge of the tub with Dean crouched beside the toilet in the tiny bathroom. He was half an inch into Sam's shoulder with a pair of tweezers. Sam winced reflexively, but it didn’t hurt; hardly anything hurt anymore.

“What should we do about Cas?” Dean asked, trying to take Sam's mind off the glass in his shoulder.

“We’ll find Enoch and we'll kill him. Hopefully Cas will be able to move on.” Sam winced again.

“Hang on.” Dean paused what he was doing to fish his phone out of his pocket. He tossed it on the floor in annoyance and resumed working on Sam’s shoulder. Without it digging into his jeans, he could squat down better to actually see what he was doing.

“No offense, but that phone’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the future.” Sam smiled weakly.

Sam got him a smart phone for his birthday, but of course Dean didn’t take to it. Still, he always kept it on him, no matter how much he complained.

“Smartphone my ass,” he mumbled. “What do I need a smartphone for when I’ve got a walking encyclopedia right here?”

"You know, if you'd use a case that actually fit—"

Sam’s response was cut off by a sharp hiss as Dean finally pulled the glass out. Dean stood up victoriously and dropped the tweezers into the sink. He watched the water and blood swirl down the drain, his smile fading.

Sam’s leaned his forehead on Dean's hip.

“It’s just glass, Sam.” Dean looked down, amused. He put his hand in Sam’s hair, his calloused, bloody hands surprisingly gentle. “You okay?”

Sam leaned into his hand. His eyes were closed. “Yeah. It’s just… this house. I can’t believe Cas found _this_ house.”

Dean smiled. “I know. On MapAdventure.”

“It was the Adviser of Trips.”

They both grinned.

Dean shifted between Sam’s knees in the cramped bathroom and Sam looked up at him. Dean cupped his face, stroking the hollow of his cheek with his thumb.

Sam had changed so much over the years, but it felt like only yesterday they were here; Before the Apocalypse, before Hell, before everything. Somehow, nothing had changed.

Dean leaned down and kissed Sam’s head. Sam looped an arm around Dean’s legs, resting on his thigh. For a moment, nothing else existed outside that bathroom. But like it always did, reality interrupted them much too soon.

There was a crash from the kitchen, and Sam and Dean got up in unison, nearly knocking everything off the sink. Ignoring the mess, they grabbed the nearest weapons and stalked into the kitchen, shoulder to bloody shoulder, ready to fight.

\---

In the living room, Sam ducked below the front windows, narrowly avoiding the headlights from an unknown vehicle.

He held his breath and closed his eyes as the engine shut off. He was listening for footsteps. He needed to know if he could take them, or if he had to run. He didn’t know which weapon to use, so he grabbed a machete from his bag. Dean always told him that, when in doubt, just cut their fricken’ head off.

A moment ago, Sam felt as if his heart had shriveled up completely, but now it was thumping urgently in his throat. Sam heard a door slam and footsteps crunching outside. There was one set, followed by a second, quieter pair. They were walking to the front door. Glad that he’d been too distraught to turn the lights on, Sam grabbed a flashlight and got ready.

The door creaked open and Sam leapt to his feet.

“Don’t move!” Sam roared. The tip of his machete gleamed in the flashlight, both objects pointed at the intruder’s face.

John screwed up his eyes in the light, raising a hand.

Sam lowered the flashlight in shock.

“Good instincts." John blinked, seeing the afterglow of the light.

Sam gaped. “D...Dad? Where’s Dean?” His voice cracked.

“Why are all the lights out?” John tried to look around Sam. “Would you… put the machete down, son?”

Sam lowered the machete, his heart racing. He looked through the open door as John passed and finally saw the second figure emerging from the dark. Dean was slumping towards the house, silhouetted by moonlight.

“Dean...” Sam swallowed.

Dean looked miserable. His arm was in a makeshift sling and he didn’t meet Sam’s eyes. Sam didn’t care. He hugged him fiercely, machete and flashlight still in his hands, tears of relief wetting the corners of his eyes.

“Why were you sitting in the dark?” John hollered, turning the lights on.

Sam pulled away to look Dean over and Dean gave him a guilty, reluctant look. Before Sam could speak, a hand yanked him off of his brother.

“C’mon, Sam! Look at him! He’s got a busted arm,” John yelled in annoyance. Dean looked away habitually and John noticed Sam’s bloodshot eyes. “Sam, get a grip. You’re supposed to be on your guard. What’s all this stuff lying around for?” He gestured around the room. In Sam's haste to leave he'd thrown things all over the floor.

Sam didn't say a word.

“I expect a lot more from someone who topped the SATs."

Sam stood there in numb shock as his dad began to unpack, his movements jerky and irritable. Dean wasn’t looking at either of them anymore.

“Dean, I want all of these cleaned and ready for me by tomorrow," he handed him their weapons bag. There was a bite in his voice.

“Yes, sir." Dean lifted the bag over his good shoulder and went to his room. Sam tried to help but Dean shrugged him away.

Sam took a deep breath, then began shakily collecting the things off the floor.

John scolded Sam again for leaving the house in such a mess, but Sam didn’t have any fight in him. He was mad at them both but it didn’t ignite the way it normally did—it just hurt.

Once John had cooled off, he made mac and cheese and called the boys to dinner. They ate quietly while John criticized Dean’s injury.

John had set his arm in place just fine, but they’d lost a lot of hard work and time, and if Dean had to see a doctor they’d have to skip towns again.

John didn’t say anything about the case. The less Sam knew the better, he thought. Dean barely touched his food.

After they finished eating, Dean brought the dishes to the sink while Sam washed them.

“Dean?” Sam murmured.

“What?” Dean gave him a look.

Sam could tell Dean just wanted to disappear to his room, but Sam was feeling stubborn. “Can I sleep in your room?” he asked quietly.

Sam hadn't meant to sound so childish, but Dean didn't chastise him for it. In fact, his eyes softened the smallest bit, and Sam felt his anger recede. But before Dean could answer, John interrupted them from the living room.

“No, Sam,” he said, having overheard them. “Let him get some sleep. He needs it. Besides, you each have your own room for once. Enjoy it.”

Sam didn’t argue. John was on edge and Sam could tell that a fight would be too much for Dean. So when Dean said goodnight to them both, Sam didn’t say a word.

When Sam finished the dishes he didn't stick around to hang out with John, so he headed to his room without a word.

For a moment it seemed like John wanted to say something to him. He had shifted in his seat, but when Sam paused with his hand in the doorknob John didn't make a sound. Sam didn't feel like waiting around for him to make up his mind, so he walked into the room and shut the door behind him.

He closed the door behind him and shut his eyes. Away from his dad and brother, his anger and frustration rose powerfully in him. He didn’t want a three bedroom house to hide in. He wanted to talk to Dean. He wanted to hit him, or hug him, he wasn’t sure which, but most of all he never wanted to let him go anywhere without him ever again. And John… Sam couldn't even think about him.

Sam collapsed onto his bed and stared at the unmoving ceiling fan, willing himself to fall asleep quickly. But he didn't. He had no idea how long he'd lay there, his brain a whirlwind of thought. He almost didn’t hear someone tapping on the wall.

Sam sat up. For a moment he thought he’d imagined it, but once he realized what he’d heard, he leapt out of bed.

Dean had tapped three times on the wall, and Sam knew what that meant.

_Sneak out._


	3. Chapter 3

Sam and Dean charged into the kitchen, ready to fight whatever threat was waiting for them, but there was no one besides Castiel, who was surrounded by pots and pans and holding what looked like a shelf divider.

“It… broke.”

Dean sighed.

“I was going to cook you something.”

Sam stashed his gun and went to help Castiel.

After they fixed the shelf and put the pots and pans away, Dean began teaching Castiel how to make boxed mac and cheese—the right way—while Sam cleaned their guns at the table.

“Dean, that’s not enough milk. The box says...”

“Okay. Rule number eleven...”

“Nineteen,” Sam cleared his throat.

“Fine. Nineteen. _Never_ take orders from a box.”

Castiel was beginning to think it was one big joke—Sam was laughing, anyway —but Dean looked deadly serious. Castiel nodded wisely and agreed to never listen to a cardboard box.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel ate their meal at the table amidst the guns and ammo. Even though Castiel couldn’t really taste it, he agreed that the mac and cheese had congealed nicely with the amount of milk Dean added.

“Sometimes,” Dean continued the lesson, “I like to add marshmallow fluff.”

Sam choked, laughing into his food. “I forgot you did that. Oh, the look on Dad's face..."

“You are joking, aren’t you?” Castiel looked to Dean, then Sam, then decided to give up trying to learn anything more about cooking from either of them.

"And ketchup for spice." Dean chuckled.

Sam and Dean laughed about awful meals growing up, but once they’d run out of casual topics to discuss, a heavy silence fell over them. Sam got up to wash the dishes but Castiel remained seated, staring at the wooden table.

“Cas...” Dean leaned over the table to get his attention. “Don’t beat yourself up over this.”

Castiel looked at him and sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

Dean smiled gently.

Castiel frowned. “If I had just killed him when I was supposed to...”

“We’ve all taken that risk," Dean said. "Sometimes it pays off, sometimes it doesn’t.”

“So that makes it okay?”

“No, but it...”

“It makes you human, Cas," Sam said.

Castiel looked at him sadly. “Maybe that’s my problem, then.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that. He thumbed a groove in the table then said. “Well, for the record, I prefer human Cas.”

Castiel looked up at him uncertainly.

“You know, as opposed to… dick Cas,” Dean smirked.

Castiel smiled slightly.

“So you made a mistake,” Sam said. “You’re fixing it now. That’s what matters. There’s no point dwelling on the past.”

Castiel’s smile turned a little dark. It was funny to him, in an odd way, that the two most dwelling, brooding pair of self-sacrificing humans on Earth were telling him to move on. But Cas supposed if he should take anyone’s advice on the matter, it would be theirs. He took a deep breath, and Sam and Dean were finally satisfied the conversation was over.

Dean broke open a bottle of whisky and they passed it between them while planning their next stage of attack.

They all agreed that Enoch had to be getting his power by consuming the grace of the angels he killed. The only good thing about that was that grace always left a trail.

After half the bottle was gone they had formed a plan: Castiel would track Enoch down using the grace he'd taken, Sam and Dean would distract him, and Castiel would kill him with his angel blade. Extra grace or not, Enoch was still an angel.

Finally, Sam called it a night and went to bed, leaving Dean and Castiel alone in the kitchen.

A few quiet minutes passed before Dean spoke again, his voice warmed by whisky. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“What would I do with a penny, Dean?” Castiel asked, but one look at Dean told him that it was an expression. “I just… I’ve been thinking.”

Dean listened quietly.

“What if… I mean, do you think… Maybe...”

Dean rose a brow as if to say ‘sometime this year’.

“...What if this never happened? What if I never let Enoch go?” Castiel said cryptically.

Dean didn’t like the look on Castiel’s face. "What are saying, Cas?”

He avoided Dean’s gaze. “I mean, what if I killed him, in the past? Then none of this would...”

“No, Cas," Dean said. "Don’t even go there. You can’t mess with time like that.”

“Dean, three angels are dead—”

“Let it go,” Dean said at once. He said it so firmly that Castiel didn’t speak for a while.

“I mean it, Cas.”

Castiel nodded jerkily to himself. “Right. I guess I’ll just… go to bed, then.”

Dean watched him get up and disappear into the third bedroom, knowing full well that angels didn’t sleep. Dean sighed, tipped the last few drops of whisky into his mouth, then went to join Sam.

\---

Sam’s bedroom door creaked open. He sneaked barefoot into the living room, making as little noise as possible. The house was dark and silent. John must have gone to bed a while ago. Sam could hear the ocean outside rushing back and forth. Sam tiptoed past John’s door, then sneaked into Dean’s room.

Dean’s window was open, letting in the smell of sea salt and dew-heavy beach grass. Sam could tell Dean was awake by how quiet he was, so Sam shut the door and slipped under the covers.

The moment he got into bed, Dean took him into a tight, one armed hug. Sam buried his head in Dean’s chest, his throat burning. All of his anger finally overflowed, but when it did it turned to sorrow.

Dean stroked his hand through Sam’s hair, mumbling, “Sorry, Sammy.”

“I thought...” Sam took a shuddering breath. “I thought you were...”

“I know. I should have called, but...” He sighed. “I didn’t want you to know I messed up.” His gut clenched in embarrassment.

Sam untangled himself from Dean to look at him hotly, “Well that’s stupid! I was going to find out anyway.”

Dean stared at him. Sam’s indignation actually made Dean relax a little. He smiled, but Sam looked away and wiped his eyes.

“I thought you were _dead_, Dean.” Angry tears threatened to spill down Sam’s cheeks, and  
Dean’s smile faded. He pulled him close.

“It’s okay, Sam. I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” he murmured.

“You don’t know that,” Sam said thickly. “What if...”

“No, I mean it. I will never, ever, leave you,” he told him seriously. “Even if you become the King of Hell or whatever...”

“Shut up,” Sam said with a weak smile.

Dean pulled him closer, not giving Sam an inch of space. “I’ll just go to Hell and get you. I’ll become a… a demon if a have to,” Dean teased. “You’re gonna have to kill me yourself if you want any peace. Bitch.”

Sam pushed him away, smiling. “Jerk.”

Dean smiled back, eyeing the outline of Sam’s face in the dark. He pulled Sam close again, and kissed him.

Sam didn’t push away this time. He melted in Dean’s embrace, letting Dean’s soft lips push out all his fears and doubts. Dean brushed Sam’s hair out of his face and Sam put his arms around him. Dean’s lips began to roam, so Sam tilted his head, letting him kiss his cheek.

Sam sniffled and smiled. “Dean. Your arm is broken.”

“So?” He kissed his neck.

Sam swallowed. He could already feel his body heating up with Dean's lips on him. He listened hard for a moment, then said, “Dad’s asleep. Do you want to…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Dean answered anyway.

“Hell yeah,” he said. “It is your birthday after all.”

Sam had completely forgotten. He looked over at Dean’s clock. “We still have twenty minutes.”

Dean leaned over Sam, grabbed the alarm clock, and chucked it over his shoulder. “I’m not waiting twenty minutes.”

Sam laughed.

“Shh...” Dean smiled against Sam’s lips, kissing him. “If you wake up dad, he’ll kill us.”

But not even that could scare Sam now. He was too relieved to have Dean back. He draped his arms over Dean’s shoulders and kissed him. Dean sank into him, laying atop his taller, younger brother.

With only a pair of thin pajamas bottoms and Dean’s boxer shorts between them, it was hard to conceal how turned on Sam had become after only a few kisses, but luckily Dean was just as ready to go. Dean rubbed his hips playfully into Sam, and Sam’s lips parted in a silent groan.

Dean hummed in amusement.

“Shut up,” Sam said with a smile, but his eyes fluttered shut when Dean did it again.

Soon Sam was making out with Dean on the bed. Sam rolled his hips into Dean, and Dean’s little smirk died.

Dean sneaked his good arm under the covers and under the waistband of Sam’s pants. He loved the way Sam’s kiss faltered and his hips rose to meet his hand. Dean groped him and Sam moaned outright, rolling his hips longingly into Dean.

“Dean...” Sam breathed. “That feels so good.”

“Wanna feel something better?” Dean whispered, rubbing his erection on Sam’s thigh.

Sam looked at him. His face was flushed, his lips were parted, and his hair was all over the place. Dean had never seen anything so sexy.

“Yeah," Sam rasped.

Dean licked his lips, then ducked down under the covers. His brown hair disappeared from view and Sam's breathing picked up as he watched the comforter bulge. He felt his pajama pants slide down his thighs, then his brother’s hot breath over his bare cock. Sam bit his lips.

“D...Dean...” he whispered, but the next words were sucked out of him. Sam gaped and suppressed a moan as Dean slowly and warmly drew Sam’s cock into his mouth. Dean’s hand slid down to fondle Sam’s balls as he sucked, and Sam's hips trembled.

“Oh...my god…." Sam slurred, spreading his knees.

Dean was smiling internally. He loved making Sam’s hips squirm and his thighs shake. He loved the taste and the smell of Sam’s cock. He’d known for years that Sam would be the taller one by the size of his cock alone. He could resent it, being older and all, but as far as Dean was concerned he was lucky one.

Sam’s cock pulsed in Dean's mouth. He swirled his tongue and hollowed his cheeks, making Sam moan and shiver.

After everything that had happened that day, Dean wanted to make it up to Sam. He wanted to make him forget all about monsters and Hell and all the crap Dean put him through. Judging by the amount of precum sliding down Dean’s throat, he was doing a good job.

Dean pulled off of Sam’s cock and listened to his staggering breath racing the waves outside. He pulled the covers off his head to look at Sam. Oh, yeah. That was his favorite view. It was the same view after Sam came home from a run, except this view was only for Dean.

“You’re so big, Sammy,” Dean praised him, feeling him up then letting his hand slide up Sam’s heaving stomach and chest.

“Dean… I’m really close,” he panted.

“I know.” Dean climbed over him and kissed him soothingly. “I thought maybe you’d want to… you know. Unless you’d rather wait twenty minutes.”

“No. Dean, I want you,” he said breathlessly.

Dean felt like he’d been punched by his arousal. He took a steadying breath, said “You got it,” then got up onto his knees and pulled his boxers down. Being older, Dean was a little more strongly built than Sam. He already had scars like John, but Sam thought it made him look cool.

Sam helped Dean take his shirt off around his sling, then Sam pulled his own off, leaving them both naked in the chilly, spring air.

“Hey, go in my bag. Bottom zipper,” Dean instructed.

Sam bent over the bed and found some condoms and lube. “You’re lucky dad didn’t find this,” he joked, tossing them to Dean.

Dean took the lube but he gave the condom back. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Sam’s jaw went slack. “You want to… Uh, yeah. You sure?”

Dean gave Sam a roguish wink, and Sam’s heart skipped a beat. He put the condom on while Dean lubed himself up. He reached down and lubed Sam’s cock, too, making him lie back breathlessly.

Dean normally topped his little brother. It just made sense. He was the protector, the caretaker. Plus, Dean had gotten really good at it, and he loved making Sam come untouched. But ever since Sam had gotten taller and became horny all the freaking time, Dean started bottoming for him. He loved the feeling of being full of his younger brother’s cock. Sam was the one who gave him his first prostate orgasm in the back of the Impala, and ever since Dean had been addicted to it.

Dean straddled Sam’s waist and gazed down at him, his freckly chest heaving slightly. “Give me a hand, will you?” He gestured to his arm.

“You got it,” Sam said.

He put a hand on Dean’s hip and helped line himself up. Dean felt the head of Sam’s cock press against his ass, and his body shuddered with arousal. He gripped the headboard above Sam’s head with one hand, then slowly lowered himself down.

Sam’s stifled moans echoed Dean’s as, with the two of them working together, Dean slid down on Sam’s cock. He tipped his head back as his body swallowed up Sam, his toes curling on either side of Sam’s knees.

Sam’s hips shuddered when Dean sat down fully and he lifted his butt off the bed for even more. Dean gasped, feeling Sam push himself deeper.

Finally, Dean was sitting flush on Sam hips, his ass parted on Sam’s balls. They both caught their breath, adjusting to the tightness. It took Sam a while longer, but Dean didn’t mind. He loved watching Sam’s SAT score leak out of him through his cock. Sam opened his eyes and Dean knew he was ready.

Sam helped Dean rise and fall on his cock until they found a good rhythm, and soon Dean’s firm, freckled ass was bouncing off of Sam’s hips in ecstasy.

For a brief moment, they were two normal boys who had never decapitated vampires, never loaded a gun with salt rounds, never eaten mac and cheese every night for a month; they were just two boys sneaking out at midnight to fool around.

Dean rode Sam hard and fast, rolling his hips and groaning quietly. Sam was in heaven. His mouth was agape, and his hands were all over Dean. Then Dean felt his prostate being stroked and he held that position firmly, letting Sam fuck him right there. Sam grabbed Dean’s hips and took over, and Dean’s expression opened up in bliss.

“Sam… Sammy. Touch my dick, please,” he begged.

Sam didn’t question it. He found Dean’s cock and stroked it firmly, his other hand on Dean’s hips to steady him while he fucked his prostate.

Dean felt pleasure rising in him uncontrollably. He rode Sam with everything he had, moaning, “That’s it Sammy. Ohh… that’s it. Don’t stop.”

“Dean… Dean!” Sam’s expression screwed up and Dean’s followed suit.

Dean felt him thrust harder than ever, pounding feverishly into Dean’s ass as an orgasm overcame him. Sam’s head flew back and he pushed so hard Dean could have sworn he lifted him off the bed. Dean cursed, and within seconds he was gone.

Experience had taught Dean to cover Sam’s mouth when he came. It was second nature now. Sam groaned into Dean’s palm gratefully, even as Dean bit back a moan himself. He came, painting Sam’s toned, heaving body while Sam came in Dean's ass.

Sam’s hips finally shuddered to a halt and Dean sank back down, bent over double with his hand on Sam’s face. They panted in unison, listening to the ocean pulse down the shore and feeling their bodies throb in satisfaction.

Dean smiled. “Happy Birthday, Sammy.”

Sam smiled back, breathless. It was the first time in days that Sam had smiled like that. It was infectious. Dean chuckled slightly and kissed him.

Dean could have sat on Sam’s dick all night. It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but Dean wouldn’t have given it up for anything in the world. But eventually he had to get up and grab some tissues. He cleaned himself off while he stood, then got back into bed to clean Sam.

Sam and Dean were at last perfectly relaxed. Sam looked like he was nodding off while Dean wiped down his chest and stomach with one hand. He removed the condom and threw everything away.

“Dean,” Sam whispered, his eyes closed. "That was amazing.”

Dean got back into bed and pulled the covers over them both. “I know,” he replied, putting his good arm around Sam.

Sam turned and rested his head on Dean’s chest. It had gotten harder to cuddle with how much Sam had grown, but in bed it didn’t matter. Dean was the big brother and Sam could cuddle up to him as much as he wanted.

“Get some sleep.” Dean kissed his head.

For once Sam didn’t argue. He was asleep in seconds, filling Dean with pride.

Dean fell asleep not long after, breathing in Sam’s scent and wishing the dawn would never come.


	4. Chapter 4

[ ](https://imgur.com/gHy8NDw)

A sea breeze wafted through the open window, tousling Sam’s hair gently as he lay there, his eyes closed in the dark. He heard the door open and Dean sneak into the room. Sam smiled to himself, remembering how it had once been he who sneaked into this very room while John snored next door. Then there was a pressure on the bed and a warm body sliding in next to his.

“You asleep?” Dean whispered, smelling of gunpowder and whisky.

Sam rolled over, sliding an arm beneath Dean. “No. Did you talk to Cas?”

“Yeah.”

Even in the dark, Sam could tell Dean looked troubled. Sam’s brow came together, “What did you do?”

“Hey,” Dean replied quickly. “Why do you assume I did something?”

Sam grinned sheepishly. “Okay, then what crazy plan is Cas scheming?”

“Time travel.”

Sam frowned. “Could that… I mean, do you think that could work?”

Dean brushed Sam’s hair out of his eyes. “When has that ever worked?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Sam sighed. “Did you talk him out of it?”

“I think so,” Dean said distractedly, kissing Sam’s forehead.

“Glad to see you’re taking this seriously.”

Dean smiled, kissing Sam’s ear. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

Sam smirked. He closed his eyes and tilted his head invitingly. Dean kissed down his neck and Sam groped down Dean’s back, pulling him close. Dean felt himself scoot across the bed and felt a flutter of arousal.

“I know it’s not your birthday tomorrow, but…”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” Sam chuckled.

Dean eyed him closely. “I always remember good sex.”

“Yeah?” Sam rose a brow in challenge. He shifted the covers and leaned over him, kissing him smoothly.

Dean hummed playfully.

“Did you bring in the bag?” Sam breathed, nipping at Dean’s ear.

Dean knew exactly what bag he meant. “Of course,” he said, reaching over to the floor.

Sam let him up and began to strip. Dean pulled out some lube and a condom and began to strip, too. Sam got his shirt off first and pushed Dean back onto the bed. Dean smiled and tossed his shirt aside as Sam kissed him into the pillows. Fumbling slightly, Dean found the condom on the bed and put in Sam’s hand.

“Yeah?” Sam asked curiously, taking it.

“I love it when you get all forceful,” Dean smiled cheekily.

Sam gave Dean a dangerous look then pulled him into a kiss. Sam could feel a grin tugging at Dean’s lips, so Sam kissed it off of him. He reached down blindly and tugged Dean’s jeans down, stripping him completely. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him back onto the bed with him.

They hit the mattress, bouncing slightly. Sam was all hands and lips and Dean loved it. He’d always loved it.

“Man, this brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Dean mused between kisses.

Sam sat up to grab the lube. “Yeah,” he said, half smiling as he warmed the lube in his palm. “You know, I never would have guessed if you hadn’t told me,” —He kissed Dean’s bare knee.— “how much you liked bottoming.”

“Yeah well…” Dean’s cheeks flushed slightly but he didn’t look away. “You’re my weakness Sammy, you know that. Hell, everyone knows that.”

“You just seem so…” Sam was fighting off a smile now, although the hand smoothing up Dean’s thigh was steady.

“So what?” Dean asked.

“I dunno...” Sam watched intently as he rubbed Dean’s entrance. “Alpha?” he offered, pushing his finger into Dean’s body.

Dean groaned. Sam could tell he’d just avoided a sarcastic look. Luckily, Sam was an expert at making Dean relax. He found his prostate and gave it a few long, slow strokes, watching Dean try to formulate a comeback while keeping his jaw from slacking.

“Don’t tempt me,” Dean gave him a playfully irritated look, which Sam quickly melted by adding a second finger. Dean bit another groan. “Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you?”

Sam smirked, leaning over him, “I think I’m adorable.” He kissed the smile off of Dean’s lips, and the conversation ended there.

He made out with Dean while he fingered him, making Dean's body heat up unbelievably fast. Soon Sam was three knuckles deep, and Dean’s body was undulating on the bed like he was trying to ride Sam’s fingers for all they were worth.

As if Sam wasn’t horny enough in that moment, Dean opened his mouth again and added a delayed, “You know I wouldn’t… wouldn’t bottom for anyone but you…”

Sam felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Dean wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, but the look he was giving him in that moment was more than Sam deserved.

“I love you too, Dean.”

Dean blinked, then rolled his eyes, or at least tried to, but Sam saw the relief and contentment warm his features all the same.

Deciding talk was cheap, Sam tossed the lube aside and removed his fingers. Dean spread himself for him, cupping a hand behind Sam’s neck, as Sam quickly lined himself up. They shared a warm look, then Sam pushed in slow and steady.

Sam and Dean groaned in unison. Sam’s cock reached all the places his fingers couldn’t, stretching him nice and tight. Dean was normally all for a good, quick fuck, but Sam was taking it slower than usual. It felt right, given where they were. So Dean relaxed and let Sam sink all the way into him, resting deeply in his body.

Sam panted out his pleasure. Dean looked winded, but ready to continue, so Sam took him in his arms and slowly, passionately, made love to him.

Dean was a mess after only a few minutes. Sam was moving all over, using every muscle in his body to treat Dean right. Dean undulated against him, arching up and rolling into the motions like the waves against the shore. It was bliss.

Dean rarely let go, but when he did it was with Sam. Dean moaned with every thrust, a constant stream of pleasured sounds and half words spilling from his lips. And from the sound of Sam’s gasps and pants, Sam was enjoying those sounds as much as the actual sex. Getting Dean to this point was the best part of topping him.

Once Dean started swearing and begging, however, Sam changed tactics. He lifted Dean and turned him onto his stomach, making Dean’s eyes open in surprise.

“Fuck, Sam!” He breathed.

Sam smiled, cradling Dean like he was spooning him, “I thought you said you liked it when I get forceful.”

Dean groaned, feeling Sam push his cock back in. There was a hunger in Sam's voice that sent shivers of arousal down Dean's body.

"You good?" Sam breathed.

"Fuck yeah, Sammy…”

Sam smiled and began fucking Dean hard and fast. He knew he’d found the perfect position to finish themselves off when Dean couldn’t get another word out. He’d stopped moving and just held his ass in the air for Sam to ravage, groaning into the blankets.

Sam thrust him into the bed over and over again, making Dean's head spin. Sam buried his nose in Dean’s neck, groaning against his sweat-covered skin. There was no part of him that Sam wasn’t either holding or fucking except for his cock, but Dean wouldn’t need any stimulation there. Not with the way Sam was assaulting his prostate and moaning in his ear.

Sam didn't seem like he'd be very vocal in bed, so every breath and curse that fell off his lips made Dean's heart swell. To Dean there was nothing sexier than when Sam let himself go.

Dean swore and Sam felt his muscles shudder.

“Dean... oh, Dean, come.” Sam panted in his ear.

Dean groaned and grabbed Sam’s forearms like they were wrestling. He hung on as his body seized up and his ecstasy overflowed at last. He came with Sam’s cock in his ass, painting the mattress and his own stomach with his cum, rocking his hips desperately.

Dean mouthed Sam's named, speechless in the throes of ecstasy.

Sam buried his face again and groaned. His thrusts came to a sudden halt, then resumed a stunted, disoriented pace as he came in Dean’s ass. The sound of his hips slapping Dean’s flushed skin filled the room for a moment longer, then they were both still, their expressions mirroring one another's.

They were so interlocked that Sam didn’t have the energy to pull out right away, but thankfully Dean didn’t mind. They both sank into the mattress, Sam spooning Dean while lying atop him. The pressure of his body felt good, and Dean lost touch with reality for a bit while Sam panted his hot breath against Dean's ear. It was bliss.

Dean came around at last when Sam finally pulled out. He felt large hands roll him over and gently begin cleaning him up. Dean opened his eyes. Sam was sitting up, toused-haired and sweaty, wiping Dean down with a towel. Dean smiled sleepily.

“A towel. You always were classy.”

“Shut up.” Sam smiled.

Once Sam was finished, Dean pulled him back down.

"Dean, I gotta shower. I stink," Sam protested, but Dean didn't let him up.

"Mmm...no," Dean mumbled.

Sam sighed, but after a second his exhaustion won out and he decided to shower in the morning.

After some rearranging, which mostly involved Sam trying to pull the covers out from under Dean's dead weight, they finally lay still and warm in each other’s arms.

“You came in me,” Dean realized. He could feel it in his ass. The condom lay forgotten on the side of the bed.

“Sorry," Sam said. "I got a little carried away.”

Dean smiled and closed his eyes. “Don't worry about it."

Sam chuckled softly. He pulled Dean close, and they drifted off for a while, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore down the coast. It was all so familiar and relaxing. Even the smell of sex in the room added to the relaxing ambiance.

Neither Sam nor Dean had ever talked about this place since they left it so many years ago. It felt like they were visiting an old friend. Despite what happened in the cabin on the sea, Sam and Dean found it hard to dislike the place.

\---

Sam awoke the next day to an early morning sea breeze lifting his hair. He was in Dean’s room, but Dean wasn't beside him. In his spot was just a pile of blankets and a ball of wrapping paper with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ written on it in black sharpie. Sam smiled sleepily and picked it up.

Sam made the bed and got dressed, hoping his dad wouldn’t notice him leaving Dean’s room instead of his own. But John wasn’t in the kitchen, nor was the Impala in the driveway. Curious, Sam stepped outside to investigate, and spotted Dean around the side of the cabin.

Dean was sweating in the morning sun, trying to fix up an old motor bike they’d found by the beach shortly after they’d arrived. There was a bunch of stuff down there, but Dean had been smitten with the bike. Sam said it was a piece of junk, but Dean took it back to the house to fix it. It looked like he’d been up for hours.

Sam walked over to him, the ball of wrapping paper clutched in his hand.

“Hey.”

Dean looked up, his skin glistening with sweat and his chin darkened with grease.

“Hey there, birthday boy.” He gave a tough smile. “Look at you, breaking the rules. Dad told you not to leave the house.”

“Yeah, well, Dad’s not here.” Sam sat down beside him. “Besides, I thought you love rebels,” he teased.

Dean grinned.

Sam kicked back beside Dean, leaning on him fondly and opening the wrapping paper ball. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Dean shrugged. “I wanted to.”

Sam opened it and a small, silver bracelet fell out. It was made of two metal rods with a strip of brown leather woven through it. Dean had clearly made it himself.

“I love it,” Sam said with a smile. He tried to put it on, but it kept falling into his lap. “Wanna give me a hand?”

Dean stared at him.

“Oh, right." Sam smirked.

Dean helped anyway. They tied the bracelet together with one hand each, then Dean gave him a one armed hug and kissed him.

Sam watched Dean while he resumed working on the bike, feeling a pleasant warmth settling in his stomach. He felt bad for thinking it, but he was glad John wasn’t there.

Sam started passing him things, wanting to help with the bike, but he didn’t really know what he was doing. It wasn’t long before Dean did a double take and said, “That’s… how’s a wrench gonna help me?”

Sam shrugged, smiling slightly. “I dunno.”

Dean shook his head and threw the wrench over his shoulder. Sam laughed. Dean proceeded to explain how he was fixing the bike, or at least how he thought he was fixing it. It was mostly trial and error, but Dean seemed to enjoy explaining what he’d figured out so far.

Sam felt the stress of the previous night lift off of him piece by piece, replaced by every word Dean was saying.

“What’s this?” Sam asked, holding up a piece that didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the parts lying around.

Dean glanced at it. “Oh, I dunno. It was with the other junk down by the beach but I’m not sure it’s part of the bike anymore.”

“It looks like it holds something in place.” Sam inspected it curiously. It was too thin to hold anything useful, he thought. It was strong, but slightly bendy. He passed it back to Dean who put it in the breast pocket of his flannel for safe keeping. Dean wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he should keep it; like it belonged to him.

After a moment of silence in which Dean tinkered away, swearing occasionally, Sam asked, “So where’s Dad?”

Dean’s gaze hardened. He kept messing with the bike, but his thoughts were suddenly miles away.

“Out.” He wiped his forehead. “Finishing the hunt.”

“Without you?” Sam asked indignantly.

Dean knew Sam didn’t mean it to be rude, but he couldn’t help but glare at him. “Yeah, without me.”

“Right. Sorry,” Sam said. He handed Dean another part.

Dean sighed. “Don’t take it out on Dad, okay? I know you don’t like most of the crap he does but... it’s not his fault this time.”

“It’s not _your_ fault, either.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.” Sam sat up. “Unless you broke your arm on purpose.”

Dean glared at him again.

“It’s not your fault, Dean.” Sam repeated firmly. “Whatever happened, you didn’t _fail_ Dad.”

“Yes I did,” he said to the bike.

Not wanting to start an argument, Sam held his tongue and sighed. He felt the happiness in him drain away, replaced by an all too familiar feeling of loneliness.

For a little while they were silent as Sam helped Dean try to start the bike, until Dean tried the ignition for the hundredth time and the bike suddenly roared to life. Sam and Dean both jumped up in surprise.

Dean’s mouth was agape. “Yes!” He cheered, “Listen to her purr! Ha!” He punched Sam’s shoulder proudly.

Sam laughed, rubbing his arm. “Why is it so loud?” He shouted.

“Because it’s good.” Dean grinned mischievously, “C’mon, let’s take her for a ride.”

“What?” Sam said, watching Dean throw his leg over the bike and soak in the view. “Look who’s rebelling now.”

“Come on, Sammy. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Dean didn’t have to ask twice. Sam grinned and got onto the bike behind Dean. They seemed to remember Dean’s arm was busted at the same time.

“Maybe you should...”

“Yep.”

They switched places.

Neither of them really knew how to ride a motorbike, so they went back to trial and error.

Sam wasn’t covering much ground—he kept starting and stopping and trying to keep the front wheel on the ground. Dean was yelling suggestions in his ear, none of which made any sense to him, so he finally just pulled hard on the handles and they took off with a roar. Dean whooped and put his arm around Sam’s chest.

It took Sam a few feet to figure out how to best keep the thing moving, Dean groaning in amusement behind him, but once Sam got the hang of it they were rocketing away from the cabin and racing the sea.

After a few minutes of bumpy sand, Dean hollered, “Let’s get on the road!” and Sam began looking for a path up.

The bike rattled and roared as they hiked up the coastal slopes. At last the bike bumped onto smooth pavement and it felt like they were flying. There wasn’t another vehicle in sight and the road stretched as far as the sea. Sam kept hearing Dean spit hair out of his face. Sam laughed and drove even faster.

The sky was blue, the sun was brilliant, and the sea that once felt like a tomb was now beautiful and freeing. Neither Sam nor Dean were thinking about monsters or hunters.

In minutes that felt like eternities, they entered the small town of Isaacton. Sam pulled over at a busy gas station and stopped the bike. Together they had enough money for some gas, soda, and a breakfast burrito each. Nobody paid them any attention. Nobody knew who they were. While it normally made Sam feel alone, now it made him feel energized. They got back on the bike and headed down to the beach to eat breakfast by the waves.

Sam found a sandy road that was more like a bicycle path, and the bike jumped and jostled them all the way down to the shoreline. By the time they got to the beach, Sam’s hair was permanently wind blown and Dean had a smile plastered on his face. There wasn’t a person around for miles. They got off the bike with their plastic bags and collapsed on the sandy beach, their legs shaking.

Half of the soda exploded into the sand when Dean opened it.

“Nice,” Sam scoffed.

They shared the soda while they ate their breakfast, watching some seagulls rooting around for crabs. They chatted about their last school, their favorite hunts, and where they’d go next if it were up to them. Dean wanted to see the Grand Canyon, Sam wanted to see the Library of Congress. Dean rolled his eyes.

Once they finished eating, they took off their shoes and socks and waded in the water. Dean soaked Sam the minute his back was turned, so Sam tackled him into the waves.

Dripping wet and laughing, they stripped to their underwear and went for a swim. They play-fought in the rolling waves while their clothes dried on the beach.

Dean couldn’t help but admire how much Sam had grown. He wasn't an adult yet, but he definitely wasn’t a kid anymore. He’d grown a foot in the past year, and his body was well defined and absolutely flawless, with none of the freckles or scars Dean had. Dean worked out everyday to keep himself fit, but Sam had natural tone to his body that made Dean want to do all sorts of things to him.

While Dean was distracted, Sam lifted him right out of the waves.

“My eyes are up here. Pervert,” Sam teased, then fell back into the waves with him.

Dean laughed, rubbing warm, salty water out of his eyes. He swam up to Sam and pulled him into a wet kiss. The waves rolled over their sunburnt shoulders as they made out.

Sam knelt in the sand between Dean’s legs and pulled him to him. He drew his thumb over Dean’s freckles. He loved how pronounced they got when Dean was tan—they were like a smattering of stars over his shoulders and nose.

Sam broke the kiss, looking roguish. "So…"

Dean read his mind instantly. “You’re a machine, you know that?”

“I thought you said birthday boys get whatever they want.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Dean grinned.

Sam bit back a smile. “Is it working?”

Dean didn’t have to think about it. “Yes."

They made their way back to the beach and Dean laid their stiff flannels on the sand for them to lie on. They made out there, kissing and nipping and fondling each other in the privacy of the sand dunes.

Dean knew he was riling Sam up, but he couldn’t help himself. He kept groping Sam’s erection outside of his soaked underwear and rubbing his thigh between his legs.

Soon Sam stopped smiling and starting humping Dean’s leg in earnest, panting against his lips. Dean got his prize when Sam finally grabbed Dean and flipped him onto his stomach. Dean smiled breathlessly, arching his butt against Sam. Sam reached down Dean’s underwear and groped him fully. Dean groaned. He could feel Sam’s cock pressing against the cleft of his ass.

“You don’t have to bottom again,” Sam breathed in his ear. “I just… god, I want you so bad.” His voice shook, and he gave a barely controlled roll of his hips against Dean’s ass.

Dean was fully erect, his face flushed. He wanted Sam to just yank his underwear down and fuck him right there.

“Sammy, I… I like it when you top,” he admitted. “Hell, I love it.”

The confession jumpstarted Sam’s thoughts and he stopped kissing his neck. “Really?”

Dean rolled over onto his side to look up at Sam. Sam’s hand was still in his pants.

“Yeah, I really do,” he said. He was never good at showing vulnerability, but it was always easier with Sam. “I want you to top me, Sam,” he whispered.

Sam swallowed. The rush of arousal to his cock nearly knocked him out. His underwear had shrunk from the water and the head of his cock was sticking out against his thigh, dabbed with precum.

“Yeah, okay, I can do that.” He swallowed.

Dean relaxed again. He pulled Sam into a close kiss as Sam rubbed his thumb over Dean’s cockslit. Sam dragged Dean’s underwear down his sandy thighs, freeing his cock, then threw them by the rest of their clothes. He stood up for a moment to do the same, then knelt over Dean again. He sucked on one of his long fingers and slid it between Dean’s ass cheeks. He kissed Dean while he stretched him, and Dean touched himself to relax more. But Sam suddenly felt him clench down. Dean gritted his teeth.

“What?” Sam stopped abruptly.

Dean shook his head. “It’s fine. Keep going.”

Sam kept fingering, but he noticed it happened again—every time Sam’s fingers rubbed over a certain spot.

“F...fuck! Sammy, don’t—” Dean panted. “You're gonna make me come too soon.”

With a rush, Sam realized he’d found Dean’s prostate. He bit back a smile. He pressed two fingers in, watching Dean relax, then petted that spot hard, curling his fingers.

Dean moaned so loud a flock of nearby seagulls took flight in alarm.

“That is not funny! Oh god, you’re going to kill me," Dean groaned.

Sam had never been so aroused in his life. He pulled his fingers out and spat hurriedly in his hand. Then he turned Dean over again, pushing his good shoulder down into their flannels. Dean was speechless with arousal. He heard Sam spit into his hand repeatedly, then felt him rub against his entrance.

“That’s… ah, that’s good, Sammy.” Dean let his head fall in the sand. He couldn’t wait another second.

Sam couldn’t either. He spread Dean’s ass with his hands and pressed inside raw. The sensation was so hot, so tight and intimate and slick from Sam’s saliva, neither of them stood a chance. Dean groaned and Sam leaned atop Dean, his knees in the sand and his hair brushing against Dean’s ear.

“That’s good, Sammy. That’s really good.” Dean panted.

Sam took a desperate breath and began to thrust.

Sam maneuvered his arms under Dean, spooning him as he fucked him. His young hips bucked energetically, his cock stroking Dean’s walls without any barrier between them. Dean could feel Sam’s every breath through his cock, filling his ass with Sam’s hungry heartbeat.

Dean raised his ass, letting Sam rut against him harder, and Dean moaned. It hurt a bit, but the pain was nothing compared to the pleasure.

Sam buried his head in Dean’s shoulder, gripping him tight. He crashed like waves against Dean’s shores, filling him with a hurricane of bliss.

When he found Dean’s cock and stroked it between Dean’s stomach and their flannels, Dean groaned loudly. Sam groped and thrust into his brother, feeling his sun soaked skin sweating beneath his. Dean’s eyes were closed, his lips parted and brows tight. Sam loved it. He didn't need to be quiet here. They didn't need to hide.

Remembering Dean’s reaction to Sam’s fingers, Sam angled his cock lower and thrust against Dean’s walls.

Dean realized what Sam was doing and shifted his hips slightly. Sam knew he’d found Dean’s spot when Dean began swearing. He gasped and moaned, and Sam’s voice broke with his.

It didn’t take much after that. Dean’s ass was shaking and he was bucking back into Sam, arching his back in need.

“Sammy… don’t stop. Oh god, right there, don’t stop...” Dean gritted his teeth.

Sam couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to. It was just like that first time in the Impala. Dean had Sam top him in the backseat, and Sam just about lost his mind. He barely registered what he was doing, but something clicked, and Dean came before he could even touch his cock.

This time, Dean came onto their shirts with a shameless moan, not having laid a hand on himself, and Sam pulled out just in time. He came down Dean’s thigh with a heavy groan, still gripping Dean tight from behind and rubbing himself on Dean’s leg.

Dean collapsed, then Sam did too, falling beside him and sharing great, heaving breaths in the blinding sunlight.

Dean pulled Sam close while they caught their breath together, letting the sun evaporate their sweat and warm them all over. Dean’s head lolled onto Sam’s chest, and he listened to his heart pounding away.

“I may not have thought that one through,” Dean said at last, realizing they had ruined one of their flannels.

Sam smiled, his eyes closed. He’d ruin a hundred more if meant doing that again. Sam kissed Dean, and Dean stopped worrying about it instantly.


	5. Chapter 5

[ ](https://imgur.com/ruWW6M3)

Sam opened his eyes to see the small bedroom aglow with morning light. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so rested. Dean was sleeping like a rock beside him, lips parted in his pillow and drooling slightly. Sam smiled.

As Sam yawned and stretched, Dean stirred irritably. He groped blindly for Sam, then pulled him close in a ‘shut up and sleep’ kind of way. Sam chuckled and obeyed, lying in Dean’s arms.

Even though he was wide awake, Sam didn’t move after that. Dean was holding him against his chest like he used to when they were little. Sam let himself be cuddled, a part of him wishing he’d never have to move again.

“Mmf...damn sun,” Dean grumbled, half asleep.

“You awake?” Sam murmured.

“Yeah.” He sighed sleepily. “Thanks to you. Don’t tell me you’re going running or something.”

“I’m not.” Sam smirked.

Dean shifted a little and kissed Sam’s head. “Good.”

Sam closed his eyes again, listening to the waves and the tall grass rustling outside. But then Dean made a strange noise, like he had choked on something. Sam looked up at him. Dean’s eyes were open, and he was staring blankly over Sam’s bandaged shoulder.

Sam looked over his shoulder, and he realized what had happened. Dean wasn't the one who had made that noise.

Castiel was frozen solid in the doorway, staring at Sam and Dean cuddling. Castiel was a bright shade of pink. He made that sound again, like he was imploding with the effort of speech.

“Morning, Cas.” Dean cleared his throat awkwardly.

Sam suddenly grabbed the covers to shield himself and Dean, but the damage had been done.

Castiel made another attempt at speech—this time some odd grunting sounds—then turned around and left the room.

Sam and Dean stared at each other.

“Well, that went well,” Dean said.

Sam and Dean got dressed quickly and went to find Castiel, quietly arguing the whole time. It was early in the morning and Dean still looked half asleep. Sam was awake and overly alert.

They found Castiel in the kitchen poring over the maps and news clippings from last night. They were all upside down and out of order.

Castiel looked up suddenly and cleared his throat. “Good… good morning. Sam and Dean.” He looked at everything in the room except for them. “Winchester,” he added.

Sam gave him a pained smile. “Morning.”

Dean looked between them both. Neither of them said anything else, which Dean was perfectly okay with. His tried and true method of problem solving was ignoring the problem until it went away, and it had never been more appealing. He grabbed himself some coffee and slid into a chair opposite Castiel.

“So. Find anything new?” He asked coolly.

Castiel nearly jumped when he spoke. “Um, no. Nothing new.”

Sam followed Dean’s lead and opted for coffee instead of speaking.

“Hm.” Dean studied the papers. “Well, that’s probably because you’re reading these upside down.”

Sam made a funny noise at the sink, like a nervous laugh that turned into a cough.

“Um.” Castiel glanced at Sam in concern. “I see. Yes. That is a problem.”

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed some of the papers. Sam sipped his coffee at the counter while Castiel sat quietly in his chair.

Castiel cleared his throat. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Dean said.

Sam made a noise of agreement.

Castiel looked relieved. Not because the Winchesters had gotten their four hours of sleep, but because there was something else to talk about now.

“That is good. Yes.” he smiled weakly, even chancing a glance at Sam, “You know, I thought maybe you were having nightmares again, Dean, because of all the groaning.”

Dean and Sam froze. In their silence, realization dawned on Castiel and his eyes widened.

“So! Cas," Sam said quickly, "any more thoughts on our next move? We won’t be able to distract Enoch for very long, and we’ll probably lose an outright fight, so you’ll have to kill him right away. Eating angel grace is one Hell of a steroid.”

Castiel was red in the face, but he went with it. “Right. Yes. Of course. But why eat it? Surely he knew that kind of power comes at a price. He's making himself so unstable."

“Well, he must think the power’s worth it,” Sam looked to Dean for some support, but Dean just grunted into his coffee. Sam glared at him.

“Maybe he thinks it tastes good,” Dean supplied.

“Look, we have an advantage,” Sam ignored him. “There’s three of us and only one of him.”

Sam’s attempt at forcing a brainstorm seemed to be inspiring Castiel at last. He nodded to himself, then added, “So what you’re saying is, we need to gang up on him. If we take him from both ends, we should be able to finish him off. One in the front, two in the rear, right Sam? Sam?”

Dean and Sam were both stony faced. Castiel immediately realized he’d said something wrong and stopped talking. Sam had been embarrassed back into silence, and Castiel resumed staring at upside down sigils.

“Alright,” Dean set his mug down. Sam and Castiel both stared at him. “Cas, Sam and I are fucking.”

Sam closed his eyes as if praying for the strength to not murder his brother.

Castiel squinted at Dean.

“You know… fucking? Sex? Knocking boots? Doing the horizontal monster mash?” Dean said.

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. “Right. Fucking.”

“Try not to be so subtle, Dean.” Sam glared at him.

Dean shrugged. “Obviously we can’t just pretend it didn’t happen, because you two are more awkward than Sammy at his first prom.”

“Dean,” Sam said tensely, “shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” Dean retorted. “It’s not my fault we…”

“Oh, so it's my fault?”

“Yeah! You had to go and do that thing with the…”

“Guys?”

They both looked at Cas.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I, uh… I already knew that.”

Dean blinked. “About us or about Sam’s prom?”

Sam glared at Dean.

Castiel ignored him. “I just… well, you’d have to be blind to… what I mean is... ” Castiel shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Maybe we should just... keep working on the case,” he trailed off anticlimactically.

Despite the ensuing silence, the awkwardness between the trio finally began to dissolve, and once Dean started making breakfast things gradually returned to normal.

After a few hours of planning and a greasy breakfast, they were heading out to hunt down Enoch once and for all.

Rucksack over his shoulder, Sam held the door open as Castiel and Dean walked past. Castiel didn’t look Sam in the eye, but Dean stopped in the doorway to fix Sam’s flannel. Sam swatted him off incredulously, then caught Castiel staring at them. Castiel looked away quickly as if suddenly very interested in the clouds.

Just like that, the awkward silence was back. It rode with them all the way to an old, empty shipping dock where Castiel could feel Enoch’s grace. Castiel told Dean to pull over, so Dean stopped the car and turned the engine off. No one spoke.

There was an eerie chill in the air and the sea seemed more formidable than usual. It crashed into the docks like a living beast, spraying the air with brine and revealing its wild, chaotic underbelly—the domain of sea monsters and gods, capable of sinking ships and drowning entire civilizations.

“You sure this is the place, Cas?” Dean looked over at him.

Castiel was sitting in the passenger seat, eyeing the frothing sea. “Yes. He’s close. And he’s heading this way.”

Sam thumbed the hex bag in his pocket keeping them invisible to angels. For once, he didn’t know what to say.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean spoke up. There was a tone in his voice that Sam always associated with the big boss fights—a husky, last-call kind of tone. “You know, Sam and I… we stayed here when we were kids.”

Castiel looked around uncertainty.

It took Dean a second. He sighed. “Not _here_, Cas. I mean, that house. I don’t know how we ended up back there, but” —He smiled slightly.— “I’m glad we could share it with you. It feels like… I don’t know… divine intervention."

Castiel’s piercing, sea blue eyes found Dean’s at last. “I’m sorry, Dean, Sam.” He sighed. “I wish I shared your contentment.”

“We’ll be okay, Cas,” Sam rasped. “We’ll find Enoch, and we’ll kill him.”

Castiel looked like he was steeling himself for something. He put an arm on the back of the seat to look at them both. “And what if you die? Both of you?”

“Cas…”

“It will be my fault. This is all my fault.”

“Cas, stop.”

“Dean,” Castiel stared at him hopelessly. “There’s still time. I can still go back…”

“No,” Sam interrupted. “You’re not going back in time.”

Castiel glanced at Dean.

“He’s right,” Dean said shamelessly. “If there’s one thing we’ve learned, Cas, it’s that you can’t change the past. You taught us that.”

“And you don’t know what will happen if you kill Enoch the first time around,” Sam added. “Maybe this is… better. Maybe it's the lesser of two evils, you just can’t see it.”

Castiel looked away stubbornly.

Dean didn’t like it. “Cas, promise me you won’t.” He stared hard at Castiel, willing him to look back at him.

Castiel’s eyes flickered between him and Sam. Finally, in a low voice, he said, “I promise.”

Sam and Dean weren’t sure they bought it, but Castiel looked too distraught to push the issue further. Sam sat back in his seat, keeping an eye out for Enoch, but Dean was still staring at Castiel. He put a hand on Castiel’s arm.

“Dean,” Sam whispered, urging him to give it a rest, but Dean wasn’t continuing the conversation. His grip on Castiel was a comforting one.

Castiel looked at him in surprise, and Sam knew exactly how he felt. There was a well of tenderness in Dean that, for all they’d been through, seemed impossible to still exist. But it was there. Sometimes it still surprised Sam.

But instead of drawing strength from it, Castiel seemed to weaken.

Dean pulled Castiel into a one armed hug across the front seat. Castiel lowered his head.

“We’re not going anywhere, Cas,” Dean muttered to him, glancing at Sam. “After this, you, me, and Sam are going back to that shack, and we’ll hash all this out. Okay?”

From over Castiel’s head, Dean noticed a curious expression on Sam’s face. It was a strong, patient, almost fatherly look, and yet there was something intent behind it; something that Dean couldn’t quite decipher.

As Castiel sat up, Dean felt a strange instinct leap forward. He’d felt it before, but it was the look on Sam’s face that made him finally realize what it was. Without stopping to examine it, Dean followed that instinct and pressed a small kiss to Castiel’s cheek. Dean knew it was the right thing to do at once.

Castiel’s eyes fluttered up to Dean as he pulled away. Sam’s expression softened, the way it always did when he and Dean were alone together. So, trying his luck, Dean leaned forward and kissed Castiel on the mouth.

Castiel’s lips greeted Dean’s without hesitation, and after a moment's silence, Castiel kissed him back. Dean was a little surprised to find that Castiel knew how to kiss. He wasn’t complaining, however, and neither was Sam. Sam put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, and the warmth of the gesture caused Castiel to sank even further into the kiss.

Finally, Cas mumbled against Dean’s lips, “Is this what ‘hashing it out’ means?” he breathed, looking pink in the face.

Sam smiled, enjoying the half cocky half content look on Dean’s face. “No, Cas, it doesn’t...”

“Unless you want it to,” Dean countered.

Sam glanced at him. He had a mischievous look in his eye that Sam couldn’t help but love, even though it usually meant trouble was on its way.

“Dean,” Sam said. “We’re in the middle of a hunt.”

Dean sighed. “Always the buzzkill, Sammy." Although he knew Sam was right.

Castiel eyed them both, looking strangely human. “Yes. We should carry on.”

Sam frowned. “I just mean… once we get back, once all this is over, then we can… uh, hash it out.”

Dean and Castiel both looked at him with identical, furrowed brows. Sam couldn’t help but smile.

“What?” Sam asked.

Sam’s smile was infectious. Castiel caught it first, then Dean, who opened his mouth to agree, so long as Castiel was up for it, but the words never came out.

In the next second, Castiel’s expression fell, and suddenly the tranquil, warm interior of the car was as cold as the sea. Castiel's gaze flew to the docks.

“He’s here.”

Sam and Dean exchanged darkly significant looks, and got out of the car.

\---

It was late afternoon before Sam and Dean got back on the bike. Sam’s flannel was the one that had gotten ruined, so Dean gave him his to wear on the ride back. It was a little too small, so Sam left it unbuttoned. Dean was having trouble getting comfortable on the bike and Sam was trying not to laugh.

“Shut up.” Dean shook his head. “Bitch.” He finally sat down.

“Jerk.” Sam smiled over his shoulder.

The ride back was colder, at least for Dean, and after a long, exhausting afternoon, they were just eager to get back and shower.

Dean was starting to feel anxious. What if their dad had come home and found out they’d left? Dean didn’t think he could handle disappointing him again.

Sam slowed down well before they got to the house, however, and Dean saw why immediately. Their mutual sleepiness turned to alarm.

There was a car waiting at the house, and it wasn’t the Impala.

Sam pulled over a little ways away, touching down with one long leg. Dean had already gotten out his pocket knife.

“Dude,” Sam stopped him, “What if it’s the owners?”

“No way. This place hasn’t been used for years.” Dean got off the bike and hurried towards the house, making Sam catch up.

It felt like the beach was calling to them from another lifetime. Their hunter instincts now fully engaged, the boys crept up behind the cherry red mustang and ducked down. Sam didn’t have a knife, so he stayed behind Dean, but they didn’t get a chance to sneak out and try and catch the visitor off guard; he called out for them a moment later.

“Come on out, boys. We need to talk,” The man said in a deep, mournful voice.

Sam and Dean swallowed. They were both thinking the same thing: coming home on a motorbike was no way to sneak up on someone.

Sam and Dean crept out from behind the car, Dean’s knife held out in front of both himself and his taller younger brother. The man before them smiled. He was a hunter, one of John’s friends.

“Wait, I know you...” Dean stared at him.

“Good to see you, Dean,” the man said cordially. He was tall and balding with a scruffy beard and dark skin. He looked like he’d been a powerful hunter in his time.

“Sorry about the arm, but I needed to get your dad off my trail.” His apology sounded sincere, but Dean didn’t put the knife down. The spring afternoon felt cold on his bare chest.

“What do you want?” Dean snarled.

The man sighed. “I’m not here for you. I’m here for your brother.”

Neither boys moved.

“You’ve gotten tall, Sammy.” The man smiled. “Do you boys remember my son? You were still in diapers when you met but… No?”

When the boys didn’t move or lower their knife, the man finally said to Dean, “Your brother's the antichrist, Dean. I know it. Your daddy knows it, but parents weren’t made to kill their children. Especially not John. He loves you boys so much," he explained gently, "so I’ll do it myself, and save your family the heartache.”

As he said it, he pulled a revolver out of his jacket and pointed it at Sam and Dean. “Move out of the way, Dean.”


	6. Chapter 6

[ ](https://imgur.com/xB89Iyh)

[ ](https://imgur.com/X6AjK5N)

Enoch was standing in the middle of a large warehouse at the end of the wharf. He was in the body of a handsome, lithe young man, but his features were distorted and wicked. He was bleeding from the mouth and laughing maniacally. His light eyes glowed with grace, and his body was curled over, half broken but still alive. The more damage he took, the stronger he laughed, until it echoed louder than the chains and the sea. He was blocked from escape by Sam, Dean, and Castiel who were all looking the worse for wear.

The sea was assaulting the pier now, chipping away at the docks. Cold, iron chains clanked against old boats and rusted equipment, filling the warehouse with a hellish symphony.

As Sam and Dean ran at him, a ring of grace pulsed from Enoch’s body and sent them hurling towards the ground.

“Enoch!” Castiel roared, “You must stop!”

“Cas! Kill him!” Dean shouted. He knew a lost cause when he saw one. Sure enough, he felt the air tremble as Enoch launched another pulse of grace.

Sam watched in surprise as the blast hit an invisible barrier on either side of Cas, shielding Sam and Dean.

“Cas!”

Castiel fell to his knees, his wings broken.

“Enoch!” Castiel spat blood. “They told me you'd go wrong. I gave you a second chance! And this is what you do with it?”

Enoch cackled and vanished, but rather than leaving the warehouse, Castiel could feel his presence all around them. Castiel turned quickly to help Sam and Dean up, but Enoch flew at him out of thin air and pinned him to the ground.

“You’re one to talk, brother,” Enoch said, his breath hot over Castiel's face, “What is my death toll compared to yours?” His voice was distorted and wild.

With a shout, Sam came to Castiel’s aide and knocked Enoch off of him. Enoch caught him and they thrashed on the ground like lions. As Dean helped Castiel up, Sam and Enoch’s fight ended with a roar of pain.

“Sammy!”

Enoch was on his feet. He lunged at Castiel, but Castiel held out his angel blade just in time and Enoch sliced his side open. He vanished with a gasp, making the air around them feel electrified.

“How is he doing that?” Dean demanded, gripping Sam.

Sam gritted his teeth. He was bleeding from his arm.

Castiel looked lost. “I don’t…” he stammered. Finally, he looked mournfully to Sam and Dean. “I have to do it. I have to kill him… _before_ he kills the angels. It’s the only way.”

“Damnit, Cas!” Dean hollered. “You don’t know that will work!”

“Cas…” Sam rasped desperately, “don’t.”

“You can’t change the past!” Dean fought. “The good times, the bad times, they’re all part of it! Stay here! Kill Enoch now. We’ll figure out the rest. Because going back in time, trying to fix a mistake before it happens… it’s like... trying to catch the wind!”

Castiel gave Dean a sympathetic look, then closed his stormy blue eyes.

“No!” Dean roared.

Just as Enoch reappeared with Cas’s blade in his hand, Dean lunged. Dean reached Castiel first and felt his broken wings rip into the air around them, puncturing something invisible and instantly unstable. Sam bounded towards Enoch, pushing through the pain to give Dean just a little more time. Enoch rounded on Sam, Dean grabbed onto Castiel, and then everything went white.

\---

Dean stepped fully in front of Sam, looking shocked. “You’re crazy!” he hollered, “He’s not the antichrist! What the hell is wrong with you?”

The man stepped forward slowly. “Dean, you can't possibly imagine what I have seen. Your father will understand one day. Trying to save Sammy… it can't be done. It is predetermined—"

"You're crazy!" Dean protested.

"—He will go bad. You can't stop something like that. C’mon now, Dean. Your daddy won’t forgive me for this, but I can at least let him keep one of his sons.”

Sam could feel Dean’s wild heartbeat mimicking his own. He could tell that Dean was about to do something reckless. Sam grabbed his knife arm and held him back. “Dean, don’t,” he said in a voice of forced calm. “Just… let me go.”

“What? No!” Dean said, appalled.

Sam looked scared, but focused and controlled. “Dean, if he shoots me he’ll let you go.”

“You’re both crazy!” Dean looked between the man and his own brother. “I’m not letting you die!”

“We don’t have any other options, Dean!” Sam begged him.

Dean stared at him furiously, at a loss for words.

Sam nodded reassuringly, then moved around him. He walked up to the man, trembling slightly, Dean’s flannel whipping around him in the sea breeze.

Dean felt nailed to the driveway, unable to breathe. He needed a gun, a bigger knife, anything. He needed his dad.

The man smiled paternally as Sam walked to the barrel of the gun.

“You’ll let my brother go?” Sam swallowed.

The man nodded. “Of course. You’re doing the right thing, Sam,” he said sympathetically. “Killing you will save countless future lives. I’m very sorry.”

Sam looked at Dean one more time, then closed his eyes. He heard the man’s finger tap the trigger, but he never pulled it. Sam was too fast.

Sam grabbed the man’s arm and used the full force of his weight to break the radius clear through the skin.

The man dropped the gun and roared in pain, and Dean charged. He and Sam wrestled the man to the ground, limbs thrashing and fists flying. Neither of them saw the man pull out a knife, but Sam felt the blade slice his chest. Dean saw a flash of blood and Sam’s look of surprise, then felt white hot rage consume him.

Sam fell back, blood dribbling down his front. He looked on in breathless horror as the man and Dean fought with one good arm each. The man managed to knock Dean’s pocket knife out of his hand and dig his fingers into Dean’s broken arm. Dean toppled over in pain and the man reached out for his gun.

“No!” Sam scrambled forward to stop him, and it was all over in a second.

The man fired the gun, something hit Sam in the chest, then Dean picked up his pocket knife and stabbed it into the man’s throat. He ripped him open without a second thought, the sea air filled the man’s gaping neck and silencing him. Then Dean stabbed him again, and again...

“Dean...” Sam sputtered, crawling forward. He grabbed Dean and pulled him back onto the ground, wrestling him away frantically. “Dean!”

Dean fell back on his butt, staring at the man in shock and rage, his bare chest splattered with warm blood.

Both Sam and Dean’s eyes were dragged unwillingly to the sight of the man dying on the driveway. He sputtered and twitched, an expression of disembodied horror on his face, then finally lay motionless and still, his eyes like black marbles staring into the sun.

Sam and Dean panted on the ground, listening to the waves crashing down the shore and seagulls cawing in the distance.

“Sam.” Dean suddenly said, turning to inspect him for the bullet hole, praying it hadn’t hit an artery or his heart.

They were both shaking, hearing the sound of the gun echo through time. The cut on Sam’s chest wasn’t that bad, but Dean couldn’t find the bullet hole.

“Sammy, where?” he panted desperately.

Still numb, Sam felt over his lung, beneath Dean’s flannel. It had gotten all twisted up during the fight. As Dean moved it aside, a bullet fell to the ground. Dean saw a red mark blossoming where the bullet had hit.

With a shock of realization, Dean reached into the breast pocket of the flannel and pulled out the thin metal case, now disfigured with a bullet-sized dent. Sam stared at it.

“It’s bulletproof.” Dean held up the case in shock.

The boys shared a relieved, wild smile, then Dean pulled Sam into a hug. Sam held him back, happy to do nothing but sit there in the driveway as they both remembered how to breathe.


	7. Chapter 7

[ ](https://imgur.com/eS2Fs4I)

Dean couldn’t breathe. He saw the warehouse around him blur and felt his body tremble. It was like he was caught in a tornado. Castiel was the only thing he could see clearly, and he clung to him like a vice. Castiel looked to Dean in surprise, but he couldn’t turn back now.

Dean felt his jacket flying around him, like anything not connected to Castiel was being ripped apart by an insatiable, living wind. He felt his spare gun fly away from him, joining debris from the wharf and other things that didn’t matter anymore. Instinctively, he held onto the amulet around his neck, then felt Castiel grip him by the shoulder. Dean immediately knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He was safe.

Finally, a light pierced the whirlwind of motion and Dean opened his eyes.

A familiar looking beach was materializing around them. The sun was out, the waves were calm, but something was wrong. They shouldn’t be there. They should be in the warehouse with Enoch and Sam. Sam was dying. Dean wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he’d never been more certain.

The ground hadn’t formed yet, it was just a picture of that beach, so familiar to Dean and yet distorted. The scene wasn't forming properly. It quivered as if being eaten by the wind.

Dean shouted Castiel’s name but his voice was suffocated by the vacuum of time. Before their feet could touch the ground, reality itself seemed to quake around them and the beach was ripped away.

As the light faded from where Dean and Castiel had disappeared in the warehouse, Sam saw Enoch's face in his. Sam protected himself in a split second, blocking the angel blade from reaching his chest.

Hardly a second had passed before Dean and Castiel reappeared. They hit the ground in the warehouse as Sam kicked back against Enoch. Enoch swore and dropped the blade, but he grabbed ahold of Sam and slammed him onto the ground. Sam shouted in pain.

“Dean?” Castiel murmured weakly from across the warehouse. He looked around at the fighting in confusion, and found Dean lying on the ground inches from him, looking windblown and sick. “Dean!”

Dean understood what had happened before Castiel did. The time travel didn’t work. Maybe for a split second, but Castiel wasn’t strong enough. His wings were broken. They were back in the present and if Dean didn’t get up and move, Enoch was going to kill Sam. He knew it. He just knew it.

Sam managed to grab the angel blade by the tips of his fingers, but Enoch thrust his arm into Sam’s chest with the sound of a gunshot. Sam cried out in pain.

“I am going to eat your soul, hunter,” Enoch growled atop him.

“Cas!” Dean finally got up, then bent over and retched. It felt like his insides were twisted around. “Save Sam!”

All thought of time travel was at last driven from Castiel’s mind. He turned towards Enoch and held out his hand, his expression mutinous.

Sam dropped the blade, lying spread eagle on the floor in semi-consciousness. It felt like time had slowed. There was something demented in Enoch’s eyes, something gleeful, and it made Castiel’s grace surge through him so powerfully that he didn’t need wings.

Suddenly Enoch was pulled back, like invisible hands had grabbed him, and his arm slid out of Sam’s chest. Sam opened his eyes to see Enoch looking over his shoulder at Castiel, his blue eyes burning.

“You can’t hold me, Castiel. You should have killed me when you had the chance…”

“Sam!” Dean shouted, “Now!”

Sam grabbed the blade. He could barely see for pain, but he thrust it forward and stabbed Enoch through the heart.

For a moment, everything was still. Enoch looked down at Sam, his smile fading slowly. For a split second, Sam saw a flash of the human vessel, wide-eyed and grief-stricken. Castiel gritted his teeth, straining with the effort of holding Enoch still. Dean looked up desperately at Sam, and Sam drove the blade in deeper.

Enoch’s bones seemed to light up beneath his skin. He gaped, as if frozen in time, then his whole body lit up. For the second time in less than a minute, a bright light enveloped Sam, Dean, and Castiel. They heard a horrible, mundane thud and reopened their eyes to see Enoch collapsed on the wet floor beside Sam, his light, handsome eyes burned to pits.

Sam and Castiel both gasped in relief. Dean let his head fall onto the floor. Sam pushed Enoch’s body off of him completely and fell back.

Enoch was dead.

Castiel stepped over to the corpse of the handsome young man. Beyond the blackened eyes, he looked peaceful in death; angelic. A shadow of wings framed him, seared into the swaying ships and sighing beams. They were monstrous in size, radiant and powerful, but mutilated, contrasting the young man's peaceful glow.

Castiel bent down and wrenched his blade out of the corpse. He held it in his hand, staring at it with a heavy expression, then moved to help Sam up.

Dean made his way over to them, clutching his stomach, and watched as Castiel clasped a hand to Sam’s forehead. Sam’s wounds vanished in seconds.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam panted, rubbing his chest.

Castiel was silent. He looked to Dean, then reached out and healed him as well.

Dean put a hand on his shoulder in thanks.

“Dean… I’m sorry,” Castiel said, helping to steady him. “Even when done right, time travel can be damaging to humans.”

Sam stared between them in shock. “You… you did it? You went back in time?”

Castiel shook his head.

“What? I don’t… Dean, are you alright?” Sam asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. I just need a drink.”

Sam looked dumbfounded. “What happened? You guys disappeared. I thought...”

“We didn’t make it,” Dean said. “We got pulled back.”

Sam grimaced. He didn’t ask any more questions, even though they were racing through his head like a storm. The look of finality on Dean’s face quieted Sam’s mind. It could wait.

The three of them stared at Enoch’s body in silence, then Sam and Dean lifted it, sharing its weight, and carried it outside to the pier.

Sam and Dean's hunters instincts kicked in and it was suddenly just another job. The body felt oddly light given how much damage it had caused. They heaved it into the turbulent sea and watched the waves drag it under.

The last thing they saw was a porcelain face shrink into the darkness as completely as the beach had disappeared into time.

“You gave him a chance,” Dean said quietly to a stoic Castiel. “No one can blame you for that.”

Sam nodded heavily. “It was the right thing to do.”

Dean glanced at him, and Sam gave him a small, exhausted smile.

Castiel sighed. “I know. It’s what the Winchesters would have done.”

“Damn right,” Dean said. “Every time.”

Dean put his hand on Sam’s back, and the sight comforted Castiel somehow.

“You know…” Castiel said, feeling the bloodied blade in his coat pocket sway in the wind, “my blade. It was given to me to kill Enoch. I guess it finally fulfilled its destiny.”

“There’s no such thing as destiny, Cas,” Sam said.

“And yet… you’re the one who fulfilled it,” Castiel eyed him contently.

Sam smiled. “Yeah. I guess I did.” He looked over at Dean, who was searching through his jacket. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I lost my phone.”

Sam made an effort of looking around, but Dean stopped him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I never liked that thing anyway. Get me something with buttons next time, would you?”

Sam sighed, but Dean smiled. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

\---

Not three minutes had passed before Sam and Dean heard the Impala roaring down the sandy coast. The car jostled down the driveway and skidded to a halt before the boys. The car door slammed and John was beside them in an instant, a shotgun poised in his hands.

“What happened?” He shouted frantically, looking from his boys to the dead body in the driveway and the red mustang he’d once fixed several years ago. He paled.

“Damn it." He wiped his mouth with his hands, looking around in disbelief. “_Damn it._”

Realizing both his boys were covered in blood and shaking, John ignored the body and got Sam and Dean inside.

Once John understood that the blood on Dean's chest wasn’t his, he sat Sam at the kitchen table and gave Dean a solution of alcohol to rinse Sam’s cut with.

Conversation exploded the minute they sat down, the three of them all talking at once, until John finally slammed his fist on the table, making the plastic bottle of alcohol topple onto the floor.

“Enough! That’s… enough.”

Sam and Dean both went silent.

Dean spoke first, his voice quiet. “We left the house, dad. I’m sorry.”

John shook his head slowly, scowling. “Damn it, Dean...”

Sam felt Dean’s hand trembling as he dabbed his cut with a sterile pad.

“When we came back...” he went on, “James was waiting for us. He tried to sh… he tried to shoot Sam.”

John was silent. When he opened his mouth, Sam interrupted him.

“Dean saved my life,” Sam said boldly. “James only wanted me. He offered to let Dean go, but Dean didn’t. He saved me, Dad.”

John looked to his eldest. “Is that true, Dean?”

Dean looked him in the eye and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

John glanced between his sons, looking like he’d aged forty years in four seconds. Finally, he nodded and clapped a large hand over Dean’s shoulder. “That’s my boy. You save Sammy.”

Dean leaned back in his chair in shock.

“I’m proud of you," John said quietly, watching Dean resume cleaning Sam’s cut. “Both of you.” He looked firmly at Sam.

Sam felt the hostility of the past week fade away, and he gave his dad a rare smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

Neither Sam nor Dean could remember a better night. Their dad let them each have a beer and toasted to Sam’s birthday. He offered to get a cake but Sam denied, asking instead if Dean could make mac and cheese that night. Dean was happy to oblige.

At some point, they showed their dad the metal object, but he didn’t know what to make of it. He told Dean to keep it just in case. Things like that had a way of becoming important later, he told them.

After dinner, John helped his boys get rid of the body. For John, there was something deeply meaningful about having his boys lay his old friend to rest; like the passing of a generation. James Walker was no more.

Together they pushed his mustang off a pier and watched it sink into the black sea, moonlight rippling over its blood red roof.

Sam would joke that it was his best birthday because he got to drink a beer and bury a body, but that wasn’t true—it was his best birthday for a different reason.

As he stood on the beach with his dad and Dean, watching the moonlight dance on the sea, he held Dean’s hand, and he realized there was nothing in the world he wanted more than what he had right there.

\---

Sam, Dean, and Castiel pulled up to the beach house for the last time. Sam had already found a case a few hundred miles east, but even he agreed it could wait until morning. The sun was setting over the sea, and the three of them decided to take a well deserved night off.

Despite Enoch being dead, Castiel still seemed despondent, so Dean opened a fresh bottle of whiskey and toasted to a successful hunt.

The storm brewing over the sea seemed to have hit the shore at last. Thunder was rumbling in the distance, but the boys found it relaxing. No bodies would wash up from the sea that night, nor cherry red mustangs.

After a few shots each, and about a dozen for Cas, they were all talking and laughing as old friends, safe for at least one night in the old house on the beach. It seemed like only yesterday that Sam, Dean, and their dad were sitting in that very living room doing the same thing.

None of them felt like getting drunk, although Sam reached Dean’s favorite level of tipsiness where he kept ogling Dean when he thought he wasn’t looking. Instead of flirting back, however, Dean pulled him into a tender kiss.

Sam kissed him back in mild surprise, and Castiel downed another three shots.

“What was that for?” Sam asked, his voice warmed by whiskey and Dean’s lips.

Dean smiled at him. “I’m just glad you didn’t die.”

Sam grinned. “Which time?”

Dean smiled darkly. “You sure you’re okay? You did get soul touched back there.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sam said. “Cas took care of that.”

Dean’s eyes slid over to Castiel. “That he did. Thanks, buddy. How are your wings?"

Castiel gave him a small smile. "They'll heal," he said. "I guess it's a good thing I couldn't fly."

Sam and Dean didn't say anything.

"You were right. Both of you," he said quietly. "Meddling with time… it's rarely worth it. I should be grateful for what I have."

Dean's smiled warmed. "Hey, Cas.”

Castiel looked at him contentedly, but he didn't see what Sam saw. Sam knew that smile. He knew exactly what Dean was feeling, and exactly what Dean was thinking, so Sam got up.

Feeling that the time was finally right, Sam sat beside Cas and took him into a tender kiss. Castiel froze, but Sam was so smooth that within seconds Castiel was melting into him. Dean watched dumbfounded and licked his lips.

Sam pulled away, lingering close to Castiel's lips to ask, “You sure this is what you want?"

Castiel swallowed, his blue eyes tracing Sam's face. "Yeah." His voice cracked slightly, but he didn't look awkward this time—He looked human.

Dean gave Sam a sly look from across the room. Sam pretended not to notice, but his smile warmed.

Sam dipped forward and kissed Castiel again, who was more than willing to reciprocate. Sam was very different kisser than Dean. He was smoother, but a little stronger. He matched Castiel's speed and depth, but he sneaked a few deeper kisses when Cas let him.

Dean finished his glass while Sam made out with Castiel, finding himself enjoying the sight too much to immediately jump in. But once he noticed Sam's hands moving up to Castiel's face, he got up.

The unfinished bottle of whiskey sat forgotten on the kitchen table as Dean sat on Castiel's opposite side. Castiel glanced over at him, and Dean stole him away from Sam. When he kissed him, Dean could taste Sam on his tongue. Dean felt a rush of arousal and opened the kiss for more.

Castiel leaned back on the couch, Sam and Dean on either side of him, each of them kissing him back and forth. Sam's lips found Castiel's neck while Dean distracted his tongue. In a matter of seconds Dean felt Castiel begin to shift, becoming restless.

Dean's hand swept up Castiel's chest, and found Sam's hand had beaten him to it. They were both touching and kissing Cas, not an inch of space wasted between them on the couch.

"Hey, Cas," Dean breathed. "You ever done this before?" He watched in amusement as Sam began kissing him again before he could respond.

Sam kissed him slowly, giving him time to reply, but it took Castiel a little while.

"I uh…"

Dean smirked. Sam had a way of taking Dean's breath away, and now he was getting to see it first hand.

"No. I mean, there was the Reaper. And Meg."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, like they were having a silent conversation. As if settling on something, Sam got up.

Castiel looked at Dean in concern.

"Don't worry about it. We'll go slow." He said, interweaving their fingers together and observing the effect.

Castiel watched, his face and his lips flushed. Dean's hand was calloused and bruised, but Castiel lifted it to his lips and kissed it gently. Something about the gesture warmed Dean better than any whiskey in the world.

Dean resumed making out with Castiel while Sam began bringing bedding out from the bedrooms. Soon the three bedrooms of the old house had been combined in the living room, making a bed big enough for three.

"Thanks for the help, Dean," Sam said sarcastically.

Dean smiled against Castiel's lips. "A little busy here, Sammy," he mumbled. "You got this."

Castiel heard Sam walk across the makeshift bed towards them. He paused kissing Dean just in time to see Sam slide onto Dean's lap, stealing his attention, and his lips, completely. He kissed Dean deeply, pushing him against the cough and grinding into his lap.

Dean groaned in surprise and grabbed Sam's ass. Castiel could've sworn he saw Sam smile. With a surge of inspiration, Dean lifted Sam and moved forwards, toppling them onto the bed.

"Someone's jealous," Dean teased breathlessly, kissing Sam into the bed.

On the couch, Castiel received a shock of arousal seeing the two of them act so roughly with each other. And yet, Castiel had never seen anything so tender. He watched, his brain stalled by his own arousal, until Sam reached out and pulled Castiel down with them.

Sam and Dean maneuvered themselves so that Cas could slide between them. After some broken kisses and several hands on Cas, Castiel was sandwiched between the Winchesters: straddling Sam with Dean behind him.

They began sharing kisses again, but this time was different. Their kisses were hungrier and heavier. Sam's hands groped down Castiel's body while Dean's hands groped up, and Castiel was beginning to take what he wanted from both Sam and Dean's lips without hesitation.

Dean rolled his hips, moving Castiel along with him and causing the both of them to grind against Sam.

Sam sighed in arousal, and the smallest of groans escaped Castiel's lips. The sound stole the air of out Dean's lungs.

Dean looked at Sam. They were both smiling. They began stripping Castiel piece by piece. Dean fumbled with the buttons on Castiel's shirt, so Sam helped, leaving Castiel to remove his trenchcoat.

"Cas," Sam whispered to him, "If you ever want to stop, just tell us, alright?"

Castiel nodded, his eyes closed as Dean kissed his neck and opened his shirt.

"How long have you known?" Dean asked curiously.

"I uh…" Castiel said, distracted by Sam helping to remove his trenchcoat. "I guess, since the beginning. You two were always so close. There was a reason you were chosen you know. You're just like Michael and Lucifer, Cain and Abel…"

"You mean…" Dean said, smirking slightly, "They were all banging their brothers, too?"

Sam shook his head, smiling incredulously.

"Uh… yes," Castiel breathed. "They were… banging."

Sam and Dean shared a look, then Dean said, "Well then, welcome to the family."

Castiel smiled curiously at Dean.

Dean resumed undoing Castiel's dress shirt while Sam untucked it from his pants. Once Cas was topless, Dean threw his own jacket and shirt off, then helped Castiel get Sam's off.

Dean watched from over Castiel's shoulder as Sam's tan, muscular body emerged. Dean leaned against Castiel, pressing his warmth against him, and Sam saw Castiel's eyes flutter. Castiel sighed.

Dean's hands moved from Castiel's bare skin to Sam's, loving the contrast. Sam was all heat and muscle, but Castiel was smooth, like he was made from marble.

Sam began undoing Castiel pants while Dean fumbled to get Sam's off. After some shifting and awkward maneuvering, Castiel and Sam were in their underwear. Dean got up quickly and removed his own.

Castiel began tugging Sam's boxers down, and Sam let him, happy to see Castiel take charge. But when Castiel's eyes landed on Sam's bare, erect cock, he made a silent 'oh' with his lips and stopped.

"Sam…" Cas muttered.

Sam rose a brow.

Dean lowered back down, fully naked and interested in why Castiel had stopped moving.

"You're… very large." Castiel stared.

Sam laughed. Dean grinned.

"Well duh," Dean kissed Castiel's cheekbone and reached down.

Sam inhaled as Dean suddenly took Sam's cock into his hand and stroked him. Castiel looked completely absorbed by the sight. Dean kissed Castiel's cheek while he stroked Sam, then he took Castiel's hand and guided it to Sam's cock, too.

Sam was a little stuck beneath both Castiel and Dean, but he was getting off on the objectivity of it. Dean's hand wrapped around Castiel's, stroking Sam.

"You gotta get him right... here," Dean whispered, finding Sam's sensitive spot beneath his head and focusing their strokes there. "He loves that." Dean smirked.

"Fuck... Dean," Sam groaned.

"See?" Dean chuckled.

Castiel smiled slightly, enjoying seeing Sam experiencing so much pleasure. Dean let Castiel take over and moved his hands down to Castiel's briefs. He was the last one wearing any clothing.

Dean slipped a hand beneath the band of Castiel's briefs and Castiel sighed in approval. Dean maneuvered Cas's cock out of his briefs and stroked it experimentally. Castiel closed his eyes, stroking Sam a little more firmly. Dean kept kissing Castiel's neck and shoulder, his own cock fully erect against Castiel's ass.

"How should we do this, Sam?" Dean asked smoothly.

Sam's eyes were closed, lost in a haze. "I...I dunno, what about…" he tried to concentrate on thinking, but Castiel was a natural, and he kept stroking that spot. "Uhhh...mm… Cas, do you think you can take both of us?"

Castiel's brow furrowed, having as much difficulty thinking as Sam. Dean wasn't making it easy. Dean could tell Cas liked when he toyed with his cockslit, so he kept doing it.

"Yes, I think so. I can… I can use grace if I have to."

Dean looked at him. "You don't have to do that. We can just… you know… stick you in the middle. Or..."

Castiel closed his eyes, feeling Dean's heat behind him and Sam's body breathing restlessly below him. "No, I want to... I want to take you. Both of you." He looked between them, his eyes ablaze.

Sam and Dean shared a startled but agreeable look.

"Okay then," Dean said. "That's settled."

Dean stopped fondling Castiel and slid his briefs down fully. Castiel obliged, repositioning himself atop Sam. Sam scooted down, finally able to think somewhat clearly despite the massive blood loss from his brain.

When he saw Dean glance around, Sam said, "It's over there."

Dean found the lube and popped the cap open. Sam's hands moved to Castiel's ass, massaging him. He coaxed Castiel into a kiss while Dean got to work behind him.

Sam could tell Dean had begun prepping Cas when Castiel groaned into the kiss. Sam knew that groan. Dean was very good with his fingers.

Castiel began to rock his hips against Sam while Dean fingered him, stretching Cas and massaging the lube into him. Sam reached down and stroked their cocks together, and Castiel suddenly gasped out of the kiss.

"D...Dean," Castiel mumbled.

Sam could tell by the way Castiel's body trembled that Dean had found his prostate. Precum had begun dripping down onto Sam's fingers. Sam glanced at Dean, and Dean winked at him.

While Castiel was distracted, Sam asked, "Dean, where's the… thanks."

Dean passed Sam the lube, and he poured some on his own fingers. He stroked his and Castiel's cocks together again, this time warm and slick with lube, then Sam's other hand disappeared.

Castiel widened his stance as he felt both Sam and Dean's hands at his entrance. Castiel looked truly ruffled now, and when Sam and Dean both slid fingers in, Castiel groaned, arching his back and gripping Sam's shoulder.

Dean grinned. "That's it, relax, Cas," he murmured in Castiel's ear. "Just feel it."

Castiel rode Sam and Dean's fingers, his eyes shut tight in bliss. Sam had the best view of the three. Castiel's body writhed atop him, flushed and breathless, his cock leaking onto Sam's as Dean kissed his ear.

"Cas, you okay?" Sam asked

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He tipped his head back as Sam stroked him, and with a sudden shuddering motion, Castiel came onto Sam's stomach. He gasped and moaned, and Sam and Dean only barely realized what had happened.

Sam gave Dean an accusatory look, but Dean looked extremely pleased with himself.

"I think he's stretched, Sam," Dean smiled.

Castiel stopped moving, opening his bleary eyes to look at Dean.

"You're an ass," Sam smiled, pulling his fingers out of Cas.

"Sorry, Cas," Dean chuckled, "You just looked like you were having such a good time."

Castiel kissed Dean slowly, hazy from his orgasm. "Why… Are we stopping?" He asked.

Dean's eyes heated up. "Not if you don't want to."

Sam watched Castiel's expression intently. Finally, Castiel shook his head. "No. Keep going."

Dean gave Sam an impressed look. He reached around, scooped up some of Cas's cum, and coated Sam's cock with it.

Sam bit back a surprised groan. Sam put his hands on Castiel's hips and helped lift him. Dean held his and Sam's cocks together, relishing the contact with Sam's warmth, and positioned them at Castiel's entrance.

"Alright, Cas, try to relax," Dean said, reaching around Castiel to hold his entrance open. "Sammy's a big boy, remember?"

Castiel nodded, his hands on Sam's shoulders. With the help of both Winchesters, Castiel eased himself down onto their cocks.

Castiel's orgasm had made him relaxed and pliable, but the first push was still intense. There really was no preparing for it. Castiel's breath hitched. His eyes were so blue that Sam wondered if he was using grace. 

Once both cockheads had entered Castiel's body it got easier. Castiel sank further down, giving full control over to Sam and Dean. Their cocks slid in inch by inch, and Castiel was surprised at just how deep they went.

At last Castiel felt his thighs lean against Sam and Dean's and they all stopped to catch their breath.

Castiel had never felt so warm or so full. Sam's arms were around Castiel's waist, and Dean was leaning against Castiel's back, holding him close. Castiel was overwhelmed with sensation.

Even though Sam and Dean had Castiel between them, they'd never felt closer. Dean found Sam's hand and gave it a squeeze. Sam smiled and squeezed back.

"You good, Cas?" Sam breathed.

Castiel nodded, so with a combined effort, the three of them began to move. The first coordinated thrust into Castiel's body had Dean and Cas groaning in unison. Sam fell breathless and silent.

Castiel had barely gone soft after his orgasm—the product of which was now inside his body courtesy of Sam's cock—and he was already becoming erect again.

It took a few thrusts to find a pace they could all share. Sam ended up taking the lead and thrusting with his hips. Dean followed, rocking his body with Sam's tempo and rubbing theirs cock together inside Castiel. Castiel found it was easiest to stay put and let Sam and Dean's bodies move him up and down, but after a while Castiel was moving too, sinking down then letting them push him back up.

Soon, Sam and Dean were fucking Castiel in perfect unison, each of them holding him in place. Dean panted against Castiel's neck, kissing him hungrily, while Sam pulled Castiel into a messy kiss. Neither could maintain it, but it was nice to be so close, breathing in each other's air, sharing groan after groan while Castiel rid them both.

When Sam started cursing, Dean knew they'd found the perfect pace. Castiel's body was so tight, yet it swallowed them up again and again, filled to bursting with pleasure. Sam threw his head back and upped the pace, which Dean followed eagerly.

Castiel was bouncing up and down against Dean's chest while Sam's hips pounded into him, rubbing his cock against Dean's. Dean buried his face into Castiel's neck.

"That's it, Sammy. Come on," Dean encouraged, feeling Sam's thigh roughly. "You're so good. Cas… yeah, Cas." he purred into Castiel's neck.

Castiel tipped his head back on Dean's shoulder, and Dean got a breathtaking view of Sam. His hair was a mess and his lips were parted. He looked like an animal. Dean's hands groped up Castiel's vulnerable body, feeling his heartbeat in every taut, quivering muscle.

"Come on, Sam. Wanna see you fuck Cas like you fuck me. So good, Cas. Sam's cock…"

"Dean…!" Sam panted. "Keep talking."

Dean stared at Sam hotly. Sam was close—Dean could hear it in his voice.

"Oh, Cas is loving this, aren't you?" Dean murmured in Castiel's ear, "Tell Sam how good this feels."

Castiel swallowed, barely able to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. He looked absolutely wrecked with ecstasy. When he finally spoke he sounded so human that Sam nearly came right there.

"Sam… it feels so good."

Sam groaned. Dean mirrored him, burying the sound in Castiel's skin.

"Dean, oh fuck, oh Dean…" Sam panted.

Dean shut his eyes tight. The house on the sea was so full of the sounds of Sam and Cas's pleasure that Dean couldn't control himself. His hand shook as he grabbed Sam's. His other hand wove around Castiel's waist, and in seconds Dean was coming into Castiel's body, freezing up and added to the lubricant seeping down their thighs.

Dean shuddered and moaned, feeling Sam's cock still pounding away, rubbing Dean's which had gone still.

Dean must have been pressing into just the right spot, because Castiel went a little haywire. He gasped and arched his back, letting Sam fuck him silly.

"Sam...Sam…!" Castiel moaned. "Dean!"

Usually Dean went comatose after an orgasm that strong, but not this time. Inspired by Castiel's sounds of pleasure and Sam's needy breaths, Dean pulled out of Castiel and lowered his hips.

Castiel felt his hole tighten around just Sam now, and he sank down the reminder of the way onto Sam's lap with a surprised moan. Sam was barely pulling out now. He was sweating and panting, then felt something at his entrance.

Sam gasped and tried to look down, but Castiel was in the way. Sam slowed, feeling like he knew what Dean was doing. Sure enough, while Dean was still hard, he pressed his cock into Sam using his own cum as lube. Sam convulsed in pleasure and resumed fucking Castiel at a feveriah pace.

Dean fucked Sam hard and fast, aiding Sam's thrusts up into Castiel. They weren't pulling out at all anymore. They were so close, undulating against each other. Dean could barely get an arm around Cas to stroke his cock. Somehow he managed, and Castiel shivered.

After only a few strokes, Castiel came for the second time, gasping and moaning.

Sam, full of Dean's cock and lodged deep in Castiel's body, came seconds after, arching his back on the bed. Dean fucked him through his orgasm like he knew Sam liked, and Sam moaned in ecstasy, writhing on the makeshift bed.

Dean was hypersensitive now, but it didn't matter. The sounds he got out of Sam and Cas as they orgasmed were worth the discomfort.

Slowly, everything stopped. Sam and Castiel were panting heavily. Dean was exhausted. Cum was seeping down Sam and Dean's thighs and covered Sam's stomach once again.

Sam looked like he could've fallen asleep right there. Dean smiled, then took Castiel into his arms. Castiel was nearly dead weight, but he helped as Dean lifted him off of Sam and onto the bed between Sam's legs. Sam tried to sit up to join them, so Dean helped him up, too.

Together they rearranged themselves on the bed and sank into each other with Castiel in the middle. Dean kissed them both, glowing with satisfaction and pride. Both Sam and Castiel looked barely coherent, Dean was shocked that he was till functioning, but Sam came around after a few minutes to join him.

They kissed Castiel and each other, sharing a quiet, tender moment together. Once again Dean felt that inexplicable closeness with Sam that only the inclusion of Castiel could have provided.

Sensing drowsiness in Sam, Dean gently pushed him back down with Castiel.

"Stay. Relax," Dean whispered, getting up. "Take care of him." Dean shot a knowing look at Castiel who still looked half conscious.

Sam didn't argue. He'd never felt so at ease in his life. Silently grateful, Sam pulled Castiel close while Dean cleaned up around them.

When Cas finally spoke, his voice was hushed and grateful.

"Sam…" he looked up at him. "That was… very good."

Sam beamed at him. "Yeah. That was impressive, Cas."

Castiel smiled weakly.

Deciding the bed was as clean as it was going to get that night, Dean turned the lights off and pulled a blanket over Sam and Castiel. He joined them, nesting beside Castiel who gladly maneuvered into both Sam and Dean's arms.

"Dean," Sam said once they were comfortable. "Thanks."

Dean smiled at him. "Hey, Cas. You okay?"

Castiel nodded in the dark. "Very."

Dean chuckled. "No need to ask Sam. He hasn't groaned like that since the first time we came to this house."

Sam reached over and smacked him.

Dean laughed.

"We'll have to do that again," Sam said. "I mean, after I sleep for about three days."

"Amen," Dean said, then paused, looking at Castiel. "I mean…"

But Castiel was smiling. "Amen," he agreed.

Castiel dozed off listening to Sam and Dean talking quietly. Slowly Sam went silent, then Dean, then there was nothing but the rushing waves outside and distant thunder filling Castiel's head.

The moon glowed through the curtains as the storm outside quieted. The sea surged up the sand, back and forth, back and forth, sending all three men off to sleep.

Dean woke up from a strange dream. He’d seen the beach from when he’d gone back in time, but for some reason the image remained stuck in his head for the rest of the morning, like there was something he'd forgotten to do about it.

Dean was the last one up, but he wasn't alone. Castiel was in his arms, apparently content to lie there fully awake while Sam packed up.

Dean glanced at Castiel sleepily.

Castiel looked thoughtful.

"What?" Dean muttered.

"Nothing. I just…" he said softly, "I'd always assumed you were hungover but… this is just how you look in the morning."

Castiel said it so innocently that Dean smiled. "Yeah well, now you know." He stretched and looked around at the mostly packed up cabin. The storm had stopped sometime during the night and bright morning light was shining throughout the living room. "Cas, you could've gotten up."

"I didn't want to disturb you."

Dean smiled and kissed him.

"Morning," Sam smiled, watching them from the kitchen. "I made coffee."

Dean rubbed his eyes and got up. "Thank god."

He helped Castiel up then moved to the coffee, patting Sam on the cheek as he passed.

"Glad you’re conscious," Sam said with a smile. "We should leave soon."

"After breakfast," Dean grunted.

Castiel got dressed while Sam began to clean up their makeshift bed. Sam was already dressed, but Dean seemed content to sit at the kitchen table butt naked and drink his coffee.

After Sam and Cas got the bed put away, they both stopped to look at Dean.

"You want to maybe… get dressed?" Sam asked, fighting off a grin.

Dean eyed him. "I don't hear Cas complaining."

Sure enough, Castiel's eyes were fixed not so subtly on Dean's crotch. He suddenly looked up at Dean, embarrassed, but Dean winked at him.

Sam chuckled. "Yeah well, don't cook bacon in that."

Dean paused. "Good point."

By the time Dean got dressed and started cooking breakfast, the cabin had been put back in order and all their things were ready to go in the car.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel had breakfast together, enjoying each other's company. There was no talk of Enoch, dead angels, time travel, or even their next case, and none of them seemed bothered to bring it up.

After breakfast they packed everything into the Impala and took one last look at the house. Despite the faded color, peeling paint, and broken shutters, nothing had changed. Even as Castiel now joined them, nothing had really changed.

Dean checked the trunk one last time, and a gleam of sunlight off an old box once again reminded him of the dream. Dean suddenly couldn't remember what was in that box. It was normally under the top rack of equipment, but Sam had moved it to fit everything inside.

Dean picked it up, inspecting it slowly, and realization dawned on him.

“Hey Sammy,” he said. “Come here.”

Sam and Castiel stopped talking and walked around to the back of the car. Dean was fishing something out of the small, wooden box.

It was full of what looked like junk from when they were growing up. There were a couple of half-melted army men, a pack of playing cards, and a strange, black case with a dent in it.

Dean held it up to the light.

Sam didn't recognize it right away. It had aged twenty years and no longer gleamed in the sunlight.

Suddenly Sam said, “Is that...?”

Sam gaped at it, then took his phone out of his pocket. It was the same model as the one Dean lost the previous night, only with a properly fitting case. The old case never did clasp correctly on Dean's.

“Well I know where I lost my phone,” Dean grinned at Sam's comprehension.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel looked to Sam, who was idly rubbing a spot on his chest and looking thunderstruck.

Dean gently placed the broken case back into the box and said, “We’ll explain in the car.”

Dean patted Sam on the back, smiling at him. "You good?"

Sam nodded numbly. "Yeah… I'm good."

On the way to their next case, Sam and Dean told Castiel everything—from John's old friend hunting Sam, to the motorbike, to coming home and finding James waiting for them. It felt like reliving a dream.

When they got to the part about Sam getting shot, Castiel finally understood. The series of events that led to the phone case being in the pocket of teenaged Sam’s borrowed flannel seemed impossible. And yet, Sam was alive and well in the passenger seat, his life having been saved twice in the past two decades because of the events of the past twenty four hours.

The three of them fell into mutual silence, watching the beach grass around them turn to forests and farms while the Impala rolled on, a song playing loud on speakers:

_“Go on and jump, yeah_   
_ Into the hurricane_   
_ You will forget the pain_   
_ It's only there_   
_ To exorcise your mind”_

“So,” Castiel said at last, “we did change the past, then.”

Dean smiled over his shoulder at Cas. “That we did.”

Dean looked at Sam, but he seemed pensive.

_“You're living in a time machine_   
_ And you can choose just who you are”_

_“Oh what are you gonna do_   
_ When there's a part of you_   
_ Just needs to catch the wind”_

“You may not have stopped Enoch from killing angels,” Dean told Castiel, “but because of that you saved Sam. Twice. That’s a win in my book any day.”

Finally, Sam looked at Dean. Dean's warm smile was infectious. Sam sighed and returned his smile, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, or at least its burden shared between the three of them.

“So… you _do_ believe in fate?” Castiel asked curiously.

“Hell no,” Sam and Dean said at the same time.

Castiel leaned back in his seat, a smile tugging at his lips. After everything he’d seen that week, he privately agreed, and he was at last content with his choices. Because in the end those choices all came together to lead him into that car with both Sam and Dean, and Castiel couldn't have asked for more.

_“And the fire of burning yesterdays_   
_ Can only light the way_   
_ To lead you from_   
_ The garden of the dark_   
_ Looking for the world_   
_ When you've opened up your eyes_   
_ You'll see you've got invisible chains_   
_ They're only lies”_

\---

The End


End file.
